


Civilization Seven

by Vizhi0n



Series: Civilization Seven [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape, Backstory, F/M, Gore, Negan's potty mouth, Smut, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8525317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizhi0n/pseuds/Vizhi0n
Summary: "We'll turn on each other, like animals."





	1. School Is Out

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an idea I came up with a while ago - it's basically Negan's backstory, set after Here's Negan 6. Hope you enjoy - comments are welcome!

The end of the world smelled like absolute shit. 

Negan had his jacket zipped all the way to the collar, the fabric pulled over his nose. Everything smelled like death - a disgusting, sweet, tingling odor that covered the air like a blanket. It was so intense that it made his eyes water. 

“Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fucking fuck.”

Negan was talking and cursing to himself. His feet shuffled along the asphalt of the abandoned road - his abandoned road. He knew where he was going, and it was almost as if he’d activated some sort of sixth sense or internal GPS. His feet just carried him while his mind shut down and instinct did all the work. 

Lucille was dead. Gone. Maybe that was the reason his mind seemed unresponsive. The memory of her, spitting, clawing at the air as she died, was playing on a loop in his head.

“Bullshit,” Negan stopped. He let go of his jacket, nose wrinkling as he was assaulted by the horrid smell once again, tenfold. 

He couldn’t go home. There was nothing left there. A part of his didn’t want to go home - yet. 

Instead Negan found himself trotting towards his place of work. There was an abandoned military Humvee parked where the buses typically pulled in to drop off students. The parking lot was vacant, save for a few cars that Negan immediately recognized. He bypassed them, hearing noises, but didn’t dare look. He knew he’d see the familiar, dead faces of his former coworkers staring back at him. 

He approached the front door. The glass had been shattered, and Negan found himself staring at the surface of a wooden, round lunch that had been pushed against the entrance as a blockade.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Negan glanced upward. Something groaned behind him and he spun around. Stumbling from the Humvee was a creature, one of the undead, dressed in military garb. When it fell, it landed hard on its side but managed to struggle to its feet.

“Open up,” Negan said. Then, louder, he began pounding on the wooden lunch table. “Open the fuck up!”

As if.

Standing, the creature was taller than Negan, not to mention dressed in full military armor. It’s teeth and mouth were coated in a crimson, sticky substance. 

“Fucking open the fuck up!”

Negan pushed the creature, muscles straining. It fell back, snarling. 

“Hey buff guy!”

Negan glanced upward. A second story window had been pulled open. A woman was staring down at him, frowning. She tilted her head to the side, noticing the advancing undead creature ready to chow on its next meal. Cursing, the girl disappeared, but not before tossing something down onto the grass. 

It glinted in the sunlight, and Negan immediately recognized it to be a hunting knife. 

Thanks, random girl.

Negan lunged for the weapon, barely avoiding the creatures snapping teeth. He fumbled with the hilt of the knife, finally managing to right himself and hold the blade correctly. He was sweating - why was he sweating and trembling? He’d killed one of these things before, back at the hospital, after Lucille had —

Shit.

What had that kid said? Hit it in the head? Something fucking like that. 

Negan huffed and went to stab the creature in the forehead, but found himself hitting the hard surface of the creatures military helmet. 

Oh, fuck me.

The creature took hold of Negan’s jacket. 

“Fuck! Help! I’m gonna fucking die out here _goddammit_!”

_Where the fuck did that girl go?_  


Negan’s prayers were answered. He heard the screech of metal on wood, and heheard the girl’s cries of frustration as she exited the school, coming in out of absolutely nowhere, like a linebacker. The metal baseball bat she held cracked against the creature’s skull, sending its helmet flying from its head. Before the girl could hit the creature once more, Negan leaped and drove the knife the forehead of the undead. Blood sprayed against his jacket, and he cursed. 

“Fucking fuck this,” Negan huffed and let out a long breath, crossing his arms and staring down at the corpse. He raised his eyebrows, finally able to get a good look at his rescuer. Her skin was a light brown with the slightest hint of freckles and her dark eyes were filled with exhaustion, as if she hadn’t slept in days

None of us have, honey. 

The girl said in a rough, slightly accented voice, “You alright? Were you bitten?”

“No,” Negan replied. “Is that how this shit spreads?”

“Think so,” the girl replied. She straightened up, taking another look at the corpse lying on the grass. Suddenly, she held out her hand. “I’m Carly.”

Recognition dawned on Negan, suddenly. He said quickly, “You work at the convenience store down the road, right? Timmy’s place?”

“Yeah.”

“Fucking hell. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Carly leaned against her metal bat, raising her eyebrows.

“I fucking work here.”

Carly pursed her lips. “School is out forever, my dude. You should go home. It’s not safe out here.”

Negan sighed, running fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I’m fucking aware of that. I’m trying to fucking get in there so I don’t have to be out here,” he stressed the last word, leaning forward. He towered over the woman, but she didn’t seem intimidated. “Is there a fucking password or something? Abracadabra? Alacazam? The fuck is it?”

The girl spun on her heels. Nonchalantly she said, “Nope.”

“Is it…” Negan stepped forward, “Open the fucking door and let me in before I open it myself?”

“Oh, no,” Carly spun back around, and this time, she held a pistol in her free hand. She aimed it level at Negan’s chest. “That would be a bad idea.”

Negan froze. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“You’re right. I am kidding,” Carly slid between the small gap she’d made in the doorway. “C’mon now. You really think I’d risk my ass to save you, and then shoot you? Buddy. Friend. My dude. That’s not how it works.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “I’ve had a fucking hell of a day, you know?”

“Probably,” Carly sighed, beckoning for Negan to follow her into the school “Now get inside. I’m not saving you again.”


	2. New World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: for lots and lots of murder

Carly set down her metal baseball bat, leaving it to rest next to the door. Negan simply watched as she slid the lunch table back in place, successfully barricading the entrance to the school once more. Then she began walking down the empty hallways, still gesturing for Negan to come closer.

“You work here, hot shot, you lead the way.”

“The fuck are we going?”

“If the world ended, where would you have all the kids stay?”

Negan gnawed on his lower lip, hesitating a moment before answering, “The gym. There aren’t any windows. It’s big.”

“Bingo. You’re doing well,” Carly smiled, pushing strands of curly dark hair away from her face. “I like my men smart.”

Negan shifted, staring at the ground. He was embarrassed that Carly could make him so uncomfortable. Lucille’s death was still fresh in his mind, and this woman’s quips didn’t help.

They entered the gym, and Negan was greeted with an unfamiliar sight. His once pristine workplace, his office, almost, had become a makeshift camp. The gym floors were covered in sleeping bags, blankets, and in some cases, rugs. A majority of the rooms inhabitant were students - students that Negan recognized. People he’d taught and coached. He saw teachers as well, some parents, some strangers.

“Welcome home,” Carly said dryly. She leaned against the doorframe, peering at Negan through hooded lids. “The man in charge is Dave. I think. I don’t know - he’s military. He and about five other guys. So, you know…they’re authoritative or whatever. They seem cool.”

Negan surveyed the gym. “Why are you here?”

“Me?” Carly grunted, “My son goes to the elementary school next door. I went to get him when the news started getting bad. We didn’t get too far - saw the military flocking all over this place and thought it would be a smart idea to stick with the men with the firepower. I guessed it worked out alright.”

Negan huffed and nodded, barely acknowledging Carly’s next question.

“What about you?”

“I was at the hospital, with my wife. She, uh, didn’t make it.”

Bluntly, Carly said, “I’m sorry.”

“Sure,” Negan strolled forward, stepping through throngs of high school students. Some were sleeping, some weeping, while others sat up, alert, and recognizing Negan as he walked by.

“Hey! Coach Negan!”

“What’s he doing here? I thought his wife was sick or something?”

Negan ignored their cries. The man “in charge” was easily distinguished by his military garb. He and five others were crowded together, speaking in hushed tones with a few parents and teachers. Negan, without hesitation, inserted himself into the conversation.

“Do we have a fucking plan? We’re the only adults around. There has to be a fucking plan here - soldier boys, what in the fuck is going on out there?”

The adults all stared at Negan with varying looks of annoyance and disdain. The man in charge, Dave, spoke first. He was a well-built man with a shaved head and beady eyes.

“We don’t know, sir. And if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get in here and who are you?”

“He’s a teacher here,” Doris Hanjone (or Hand-job, as Negan had affectionately nicknamed her) replied curtly. “His name is Negan.”

“I could have fucking introduced myself, Doris. Do you still get genital warts? Is the gel I recommended working out for you?”

“Fuck you.”

Negan ignored her. “It’s a fucking nightmare out there, people.”

“We know. We’re awaiting orders from out superiors,” Dave said. “Until then, our top priority is maintaining order. A lot of these children haven’t seen there parents - a lot of those parents are most likely dead.”

“It’s that bad?” A low female voice said. Carly poked her head from around Negan. “On the news they said it was some kind of virus. Like, a bad, bad virus. Nasty shit.”

“Oh, it’s nasty as fuck,” Negan agreed, bobbing his head up and down.

Dave sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Like I said, our superiors will send in orders as soon as possible. Our best bet is relocation. A base somewhere secure.”

“I’m down with that. Maybe find an island. Get some R & R,” Carly nodded, ignoring the stares directed her way. For a moment Negan couldn’t believe that his woman had a child. She surely didn’t look or act like she did. “Just a suggestion.”

Negan met Carly’s eye and, dismissing Doris’s noises of disgust, said, “The beach sounds about fucking glorious right now, people.”

~ ~ ~

Negan was given a yoga mat and a blanket that had once belonged to the science teacher. His jacket was his pillow, and the gym floor did absolutely nothing for his back. Nonetheless, he lay amongst a throng of high school students, unable to sleep. Dave’s men were still awake, patrolling through the sleeping kids.

Negan couldn’t see Carly. They were all packed together, and a few kids were still crying softly to themselves. Negan didn’t have the heart to call them pussies - not this time. They had every reason to cry, and so did he.

But he couldn’t. It was as if he’d run out of tears.

Sighing, Negan stood, stretching, being as silent as possible. He began stepping through the mass of splayed, sleeping teenagers, towards the hallway. One of Dave’s men pointed at him, gesturing wildly, doing his best not to speak.

Negan hissed, “I have to take a shit! I can’t keep my ass clenched all night!”

The soldier raised his hands in a placating gesture, nodding. Negan continued on, stopping for a moment as he came across Carly’s sleeping bag. Her son, Pete, lay curled up in the blankets. He was a small, dark haired little boy with cherub cheeks. Negan smiled softly and leaped over a sleeping kid and into the hall. He bypassed the bathrooms, smirking, as his lie had been successful.

“Now where are you?” Negan said to himself, his voice echoing around the empty hallway. He knew this place - if she’d gone to the restroom, she’d be farther down, near the band room. If not, she could have been holed up in the lunch room, scavenging for food. Negan doubted that.

Negan checked the woman’s restroom, drawn by a sudden noise. It sounded like a strangled cry, as if someone were crying.

He entered the room, took one look, and bellowed.

Dave had Carly pressed against the sink, pants gathered at his knees, his fingers  grasped around Carly’s dark hair. It took him a split second to leap away upon noticing Negan, and he crashed to the ground, head banging against the doors of the closed stalls.

Carly held onto the sink, still weeping, sucking in big gulps of air.

Negan’s feet moved instinctively, and before Dave could so much as explain himself, blood was pouring from his nose and mouth as Negan kicked in his teeth.

“Wait!”

Negan kicked him again. Dave coughed, sputtering as he held out a hand, blood pooling into his cupped palm.

_“Negan, stop!”_

Carly’s small hands scraped against his broad shoulders. She shuffled, her own pants gathering at her ankles. She didn’t bother to pull them up and instead worked on restraining Negan. _“Stop it!”_

“He fucking was raping—”

“I know! I know,” Carly cried. “Don’t kill him! Please don’t!”

Negan stopped, chest heaving. His fingers were trembling, his eyes darting from Carly to Dave, who lay, several of his teeth floating in pools of blood by his side. He leaned his head against the stall door, grinning.

“You fucking _bitch_ ,” Dave spat at Carly.

Shakily, Carly pulled up her pants. She was panting, her fingers struggling with the zipper.

Negan’s chest still heaved with adrenaline. He wanted to vomit - Dave was still there, still bleeding, still _alive_.

“I’ll fucking…” Negan let out a breath, and for a second, his own anger terrified him.

“You’ll what, tough guy? Dave snarled. “Kill me? Huh? Go ahead and do it then—”

“No,” Carly said, more firmly this time. “He will not. That’s not how this is going to be. We’re not killing each other. That’s…this isn’t how civilization works,” Carly sighed and gently touched Negan’s bicep. “Negan, let’s go. Leave him. I don’t want to be here —”

The following sound was something Negan prayed he’d never hear again.

_Screaming children, followed by gunfire._

_Terrified wails of terror and pain and fear._

Dave’s face fell. His legs struggled to hold his weight as he stood, rocking back and forth before becoming steady.

“The fuck was that?” Negan wheezed. He exited the restroom, reaching out to grip Carly’s shoulder. Dave followed, limping behind them.

“It’s coming from the gym,” Carly said, gulping. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead and neck. She opened her mouth, croaking, “Pete? Pete’s in there.”

“C’mon,” Negan tugged at Carly’s clothes. “We can’t fucking - we can’t go in there.”

Dave’s walkie sputtered, startling all three of them. One of his men shouted, but his voice was distorted and distant due to the gunfire.

Six rapid shots follow by screams. Carly’s legs carried her forward, and she wrenched herself from Negan’s grips.

“Shit!” Dave cursed. Negan, his rage towards Dave momentarily blinded by the sight of Carly running directly towards danger, followed.

Carly fell to her knees as she reached the gyms door. Negan grabbed her, catching a glimpse of the dozens of kids left in the room.

_So many dead kids. So many dead kids._

Negan resisted the urge to scream like a maniac. His mouth opened but no words came out, just a strangled cry. He covered Carly’s body with his own, staring at the attackers for the first time.

They were dressed in civilian gear, carrying everything from assault rifles to pistols. The children left alive, the ones calling out for their parents, were executed with a bullet to the brain. Like cattle.

The blood, the gore, and the absolute cruelty nearly caused Negan to vomit.

Negan spotted him first. He could tell because a split second later, Carly _screamed._

Little Pete, the sweet little boy with the cherub face and dark hair, lay dead on his sleeping bad, still curled into a ball, still sleeping. He had a bullet in him, right in his forehead.

Carly screamed again. The attackers turned, drawn by her animalistic noises.

“Carly! Carly we have to fucking go, now!” Negan screamed through the hail of bullets sent their way. Carly refused to move, wailing, hands clutching for her dead son.

_“My baby! My baby no, no!”_

Carly still wasn’t moving. She would die if she didn’t move, Negan knew.

A bullet flew wide and caught Dave in the face. He toppled, the hole in his jaw leaking blood. He twitched then fell still. A piece of warm flesh slapped Negan in the face, warm and sticky with blood.

_“Carly!”_

Carly moved, throwing herself away from the carnage. Negan held her, one arm wrapped around her waist as they ran and ran, away from the blood and away from the death and out the door.


	3. Community

“We need to find a car,” Negan said briskly. He dared a glance behind him, where Carly was following slowly, shuffling along. He steeled himself, then said, loudly, “Come the fuck on. We’ll fucking die if we stay out here.”

Carly looked up. Her eyes were red, puffy from her crying. She glanced back at the school, which was getting smaller and smaller as they walked down the desolate, abandoned road. The undead shuffled around, but Negan and Carly were at a safe distance. That wouldn’t last long, Negan knew.

“Carly,” Negan said gently, reaching out for the grief-stricken woman. “We need to keep going, okay?”

“Yeah,” Carly said, her low low and hollow. “Yeah. I know. I’m coming.” 

They walked until their feet hurt and their stomachs began to rumble. Negan didn’t realize haw exhausted and hungry he was, and he suddenly realized that his last meal had been _yesterday_. Hospital food.

“C’mon,” Negan wrapped an arm around Carly’s shoulder. “We need a car, and food…shit. We need everything. Fuck.”

“My store is half a mile east from here. I locked up before everything went down. It’s probably been looted,” Carly replied. She shrugged, adding, “We can try that. I have a key.”

“Awesome,” Negan nodded, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His stomach grumbled, louder this time, and Carly chuckled dryly.

“Let’s go.”

It took them a while to reach the store - they had to bypass the undead before taking an alternate route, as the original road was blocked by debris. More than once Negan would hear the roaring blades of a helicopter or the shriek of a military jet overhead, yet a majority of the town was still vacant.

“They’re probably focusing on D.C, you know?” Carly said, lowering her voice as they approached the gas station. Half a dozen of the undead were shuffling around groaning and clawing at nothing. Carly cursed, ducking against the nearest gas pump. Negan promptly followed, crouching next to her.

“You were a gym coach, right? You got any basketball maneuvers? Duck and weave type stuff?” Carly said. Negan grinned and shook his head, and for once, he was grateful for Carly’s humor. It showed that the witty side of her hadn’t died alongside her son.

“We didn’t fucking practice for this shit,” Negan replied.”Best thing we can do is distract them. Give you a clear path to the door.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Carly responded. “You know, without getting your ass killed.”

“Duck and weave,” Negan said gruffly. He stood, his mind already calculating the distance from his current position to the door. Taking a deep breath, he eased himself into the open, desperately thinking of a way to catch the undead’s attention.

_“Hey, dickweeds!”_

The half dozen walking corpses all turned to look. Negan shuffled his feet, darting to the right. The undead followed.

“Simons says….go left!”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Negan saw Carly slip from cover and make her way towards the door.

“Go right!” Negan jumped back, away from a corpses grasp. He shouldered the creature in the chest, sending it stumbling back. He backtracked, checking for any oncoming danger. He couldn’t be blindsided - he’d be fucked.

“You got that door unlocked?”

“Working on it!” Carly’s voice cut through the groans and moans of the creatures.  “There’s like fifty fucking keys on this damn thing…it’s like all the buttons you don’t push on a calculator-”

Negan planted both hands on the chest of an undead and shoved. It tumbled and fell against its friends. Negan ducked underneath another, making his way to the opposite side of the gas station.

“Got it - shit, no, that’s not right!”

“Oh my fucking God!” 

Carly suddenly gave triumphant cry. Negan, breathing heavily from the physical exertion of playing tag with a bunch of rotting corpses, saw her push the door to the store open and beckon for him to follow.

“Run, gym coach!”

Negan cursed and darted away, sliding into the store. Carly hastily closed the door behind him, shoved it as dirty, rotting hands began clawing against the glass. Negan immediately tugged at one of the shelves, dragging it in front of the doorway, blocking the undead’s view and sealing off the door.

He sank to his knees, breathing heavily. He wanted to vomit but his stomach was empty, running on raw energy. Carly touched his shoulder, squeezing his skin as she, too, knelt down.

“Good work.”

“You fucking too,” Negan gasped, lightly patting her on the arm. “Holy fuck…”

Carly smirked and stood, spinning and surveying her place of work. A store was quaint, most of the shelves devoid of any stock. But there was food, and water (warm water, for the electricity had been shut off, but water, nonetheless.)

 _“Fucking hell,_ ” Negan finally regained his breath and stood. “Good call.”

“I work here, so it’s not stealing,” Carly said, raising her eyebrows. “Eat what you want.”

Negan did.

As night fell, Carly began rummaging around for blankets. Negan took it upon himself to light a few candles, thanking Carly as she appeared, handing him a ratty old rug and a small quilt to sleep on.

“We won’t be able to stay here long,” Carly said softly. A half eaten bag of beef jerky lay in her lap, and she sat against one of the shelves, adjacent to Negan.

“I figured that,” Negan said softly. He sighed, meeting Carly’s sad gaze. He said, “You doing okay?”

“No. You?” 

“Peachy,” Negan replied sarcastically. He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “This shit feels like a fucking dream…a nightmare. I keep wanting to wake the fuck up from it all. But…even if it were a dream, my wife would still be dead.”  
“You said that she was sick.”

“Cancer,” Negan said softly. “Doctors couldn’t do shit for her. She died while I was with her.”

Carly fiddled with her shirt, stretching her legs out in front of her. “That’s awful.”

“There was nothing I could have done,” Negan said casually. “Jesus…I didn’t even have the balls to put her down myself when she…turned.”

“Maybe thats good. You don’t have to remember her like…that. Like one of those,” Carly jerked her chin towards the blocked door. Even from in here, they could hear the snarls of the undead. “I’m…I’m glad Pete died quickly. So I didn’t have to see him like that. But he died without me, you know? I wasn’t there. Maybe I could have done something—”

“You would have been killed, too,” Negan rumbled.

“That would have been better.”

“No,” Negan replied, sitting up. “Don’t fucking talk like that. You - we’re - not better off dead.”

“Not yet,” Carly tilted her head back, grinning at the ceiling. “But eventually.

Negan closed his eyes. For a moment, he felt content. His belly was full, hydrated, and for the moment, they were safe.

He wondered how long would all that last.

~ ~ ~

“Open the fuck up! We know you’re in there!”

Carly’s arm shot out to grip Negan’s shoulder. She turned to him, eyes wide.

“Those are some very fucking persistent Jehova’s Witnesses,” Negan grumbled. He tugged on his jacket, staying low and sticking close to Carly.

“We have supplies and food! We’re not here to hurt you!”

“That what everyone says before they, you know, _hurt you!_ ” Carly shouted back. “You ever seen an alien movie where they’re like ‘we come in peace’ and like ninety-nine percent of the time they totally do _not_ come in peace?”

“I’ve seen a few,” the distinctly male voice replied. “We’re, like, E.T or some shit like that.”

“I’ve never seen E.T so I don’t believe you.”

“How the fuck have you not seen E.T?” Negan hissed. He shook his head and spoke. “This is a shit-tastic discussion, but we’re not coming out. Not on my ass!”

“We’re part of a community,” the male voice continued. “The Neighborhood. It’s about five miles out of town. We’re holed up, trying to save as many people as possible. It’s military - we have food, electricity—”

“Sounds dope,” Carly murmured, her eyes narrowing. “ _Too_ dope.”

Negan sighed, ducking his head. Licking his lips, he said to Carly, “We can’t stay here. You know we can’t, I know we can’t.”

Carly sighed, raising her voice and addressing the men outside. “We’re making an executive decision! One moment please!” She lowered her voice once more. “I mean, you’re right…they haven’t threatened us or anything…I still don’t like this.”

“I don’t like anything,” Negan said. He nudged Carly with his elbow. “We have to try. If they try shit, I’ll shut them down. Promise.”

Carly nodded, and when she shouted, her voice was shaky. “We’re done, guys! We’re coming out!”

“Good choice.” 

Carly assisted Negan as he pulled the shelf away from the door. Through the glass they saw two men dressed in military fatigues.

“They have guns,” Carly murmured.

“Relax,” Negan said. “Just…be calm. Don’t give them a reason to kill our asses by, you know…being you.”

Carly snorted and said playfully, “Fuck off.”

They opened the door, stepping out into the morning air. Negan wrinkled his nose, peering around the two men. The half dozen undead from earlier lay rotting.

“You cleared the fucking way,” Negan said. “That was sweet of you.”

“I told you, we’re here to help,” the taller of the two men spoke. “My name is Steven. My partner is Elliot.” 

“Negan.”

“Carly.”

They shook hands. Carly shrunk, making herself smaller. As the men studied them, they seemed to come to a mental agreement.

“We have a truck,” Steven said.

“I call shotgun,” Carly immediately darted towards the vehicle. Negan rolled his eyes and followed.

“That woman is going to be the death of me I _swear_.”

~ ~ ~

Neighborhood was, in fact, a rich man’s community. It would have taken Negan fifty years to afford even the smallest home, and the soldiers seemed to know that. They grinned with pride as they were allowed entrance, waving at their fellow military comrades as they passed the final checkpoint. The doors opened and Carly and Negan were ushered from the vehicle.

Elliot, boots crunching against the asphalt, spoke first. “Mason’s house is at the end of the cul-de-sac. Big, red one with the nice flowers. He’s in charge.”

“Uh-huh,” Negan said uneasily. The grandeur of the place, the sheer wealth of it all was unnerving to him.

“C’mon,” Elliot began escorting them. Steven was nowhere in sight - Negan hadn’t even see him leave the vehicle.

Carly smirked, following behind Elliot. In a low voice, a bad caricature of an alien, she murmured.

“Take me to your leader.”

~ ~ ~

Mason was a hospitable man. He offered Carly and Negan tea on sight, making sure they felt welcome as they entered the home. Negan wasn’t used to it - being treated well. The entire house smelled of rick lavender, and a old music played softly through a hidden speaker.

Carly was filthy - her clothes were torn, scratched. She had blood on her shirt and in her hair, and bruises from Dave’s grip were peppered across her throat. Negan was worse for wear - his sweatpants were torn, and the polo shirt he wore had gone from white to reddish brown. Dave’s blood was still splattered across his face, smeared on his cheek from where he’d slept.

Mason felt the urge to point that out.

“You both seem exhausted. A shower would do you both some good.”

“Thanks,” Carly said dryly. “Can we sit on your furniture? You can wash the cushion. You have one of those rich-guy washing machines.”

“Take a seat,” Mason nodded. Up close, Negan could see the that he and Mason were around the same age. Mason was clean shaven, his bottle blonde hair neatly combed to one side. His clothes were in pristine condition.

“Nice fucking place you got,” Negan said roughly. “Very…large.”

“We’re lucky. This place was already secure,” Mason nodded, acknowledging Negan’s compliment. “This isn’t an official military operation - Elliot and Steven and a few others were separated from their team and ended up here. They’re helping out stragglers, now. Some military, some not. D.C is a hotspot right now.”

Negan crossed his arms. “Makes sense.”

“We want to maintain order,” Mason said, smiling. “That’s all we can do. Over eighty people live in these homes - neighbors, friends, families. Elliott and Steven. Right now we’re rationing out food, but everything you get normally,” Mason rubbed his fingers together. “Cash.”

“You clearly have no sense of economy,” Carly said briskly.

“Supply and demand on a smaller scale. Things like toilet paper are a necessity. Someone hoarded all that up, sells it for a low price. Keep things as normal as possible.”

“Hoarding toilet paper and selling it is definitely fucking normal,” Negan said sarcastically. He leaned against the cushion, desperately wishing he could kick his feet up. He didn’t know how Mason would feel with Negan’s shoes on his nice, ornate coffee table.

“Let me finish,” Mason said calmly. “We have a treasurer, who you’ll meet eventually. We have a gardener - you work for them, they pay you. We have guards - you work, you get paid. We have cattle. Constables. People like Elliot and Steven, who go out of there way to help people. They’re all payed. It’s a system. The cash circulates, and everyone benefits.”

fucking house, too?”

“Housing is paid by working,” Mason stood. Carly and Negan followed his movements. “Everyone has a job.”

“Career day,” Carly grumbled. Then, her voice became sincere as she approached Mason, extending a hand. “I know Negan and I are acting like dicks. We’re tired - it’s been a hell of a time out there. Thank you for taking us in.”  
Mason, startled by her sudden kindness, nodded his head and grasped her hand, shaking it firmly. “It’s my pleasure.”

Negan raised a hand. “What she fuckin’ said. Thanks. Now, if you don’t mind…where are the fucking showers? I smell like ass.”

~ ~ ~

Carly showered last, leaving Negan to his own devices. He could hear her humming from where he sat, drying his hair with a towel. It felt wonderful to abandon his old ratty clothes for something new. Mason had provided them with clothes and some food as a start, stating they they wouldn’t have to start paying it off until they found a place to work.

Negan sat in the master bedroom, resting in the soft armchair. For a moment, everything seemed…normal. That was until Carly stepped out of the bathroom, tying the  belt on her big, fluffy bathrobe. Her hair hung a limp, curling mass against her head. Negan tilted his head to the side, trying not to stare. She was, well, beautiful. To him, at least.

“It’s like a whole new person was living under there,” Carly gestured to his clean-shaven face. A grin played at the corners of her lips, and without thinking, Negan patted his thigh.

Carly’s soft skin pressed against his leg as the woman settled into his lap, straddling his waist. Negan tilted his head up, beaming, licking his lips. She smelled like strawberries and coconut, a heavenly combination. Negan instinctively leaned forward, burying his nose against the crook of her neck, his mouth tugging lightly and pressing kisses against the skin. His fingers toyed with the robe, tugging at the smooth, soft fabric. He finally was able to capture Carly’s lips with his own, and he sighed at how unbelievable warm and soft she felt, her skin still damp from the shower she’d taken. Negan’s fingers curled into her hair, tugging softly at her curled tresses. Carly’s nails scraped lightly against his skin, and Negan let out a low groan, feeling the bulge in his pants grow.

Carly noticed. Her shaking fingers began tugging at Negan’s zipper, opening his fly. Her slender fingers slid into his pants, palming his aching erection. Negan growled, gnawing on his lower lip before pulling Carly’s robe to the side. His mouth latched onto her exposed breasts, tongue flitting over her nipple.

Her pleasure filled groan caused him to stop.

“Hey - fuck,” Negan, panting, pulled away and clutched Carly’s wrists. His chest heaved, and Carly began kissing his neck, her lips sucking at his pulse.

“What is it?”

“I fucking can’t.”

“Why not?” Carly purred. She continued to nip at his skin, though she removed her hand from around his dick. “Don’t you want this?”

“I can’t,” Negan shook his head. Carly pulled away, tugging her robe back over her breasts. She tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes for a moment. Negan touched her, gently placing his palms against her exposed, bare legs.

“Is it her? Your wife?” Carly said softly. When Negan didn’t answer, she nodded slowly. “I understand. I understand, Negan. You need time to mourn.”

“I called you over here. This is my fucking fault - I fucked up.”

Carly pursed her lips, sliding from his lap. Negan began adjusting his pants, sitting up straighter and studying the woman standing before him. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her torso.

“I’m taking the room down the hall. It has a nice bed,” Carly said quietly. She smiled, placing a hand on Negan’s shoulder. “Take all the time you need. I care about you, Negan. I’m your friend, first and foremost. _My dude_.”

Negan chuckled.

“You’re a fucking amazing friend, you know that?”

 _And I don’t deserve you,_ Negan thought. He kept that one to himself.


	4. Earn What You Take

“No.”

Negan watched as Carly slung the ratty old backpack over her shoulder, ignoring Negan’s insistent cries of disagreement. She was so fucking _stubborn_. Worse than Lucille, certainly. Far worse.

“Mason said we had to work, right? I’m not being a housewife or whatever.”

“Work for that guy - Irvin. Sell some fucking clothes or something. Why do you wanna do the most dangerous fucking job out there?”

Carly stopped, lips twisting into a grimace. Her hand rested on the doorknob, her head swiveled to look at Negan. “Scavenging isn’t dangerous. We’re just looking for supplies.”

“Yeah, uh, that’s fucking dangerous. This isn’t a regular trip to the grocery store, you know. Everything is trying to fucking kill you.”

“You are so _dramatic,_ ” Carly rolled her eyes. “I’m going. We get to keep one thing for every person in our house, anyway. That’s our payment. I’ll bring you back something. Maybe a bottle, since you’re acting like such a little baby.”

“Excuse me for not wanting you to fucking die,” Negan barked.

“Negan,” Carly said gently. “I am a strong, independent black woman. Buzz off.”

~ ~ ~

Mason had made his own offer to Negan.

“Paranoid fuck,” Negan grumbled, climbing the granite stairs and knocking three times on the door to Mason’s home. The blonde man opened the door, immediately beckoning for Negan to enter.

“Sit anywhere you want,” Mason said. He searched the woman, calling out, “Vanessa!”

The woman who exited the bedroom was a knockout. Model material - she most likely had been a model before the world ended. Despite her modest clothing, Negan could tell that she was slender, her legs long. She had pink, full lips and brown hair. When she noticed Negan she stopped, glancing at Mason.

“Who is he?”

“The man I told you about. Negan,” Mason smiled weakly. “Negan, this is my wife Vanessa.”

_Of course. Probably bought her off craigslist._

Vanessa pursed her lips and nodded at Negan, flopping onto the couch and crossing her legs. She reached over to grab a red notebook from the coffee, pulling a pin from her pocket. Without looking at Negan she said, “I take care of this moron’s stuff. All of it. You can sit down.”

Mason nodded in agreement, and hesitantly, Negan slid onto the couch across from Mason. Vanessa was already jotting things down.

“You got my note, right?” Mason asked enthusiastically. “I wrote it down…wanted to give you time to think. It’s not a light decision.”

“I read the shit.”

“Good. Have you and your wife-”

“Carly isn’t my wife,” Negan said quickly. “She’s just a friend of mine. We met on the road.”

Vanessa, still not looking up from her notebook, raised her eyebrows and made a noise in the back of her throat.

“I understand,” Mason nodded, smirking. “She joined the scavengers, right? She’s working for Dylan.”

“They’re out right now,” Negan replied. “She was excited. Wanted to…contribute. Earn some cash.”

“I’m glad you’re both adjusting. Now all you need is a job,” Mason pointed, straightening up. “Before you make a decision, I wanted to talk with you. See if you have any questions, since the note was brief.”

“Why in the fuck do you need a bodyguard?”

Mason’s face became flushed. “That’s not really what you’d be doing. You’d be…an assistant of sorts.”

“An assistant who makes sure you don’t fucking die,” Negan crossed his arms. “No offense, but I get it. You’re not a strong dude. I am. My question is _why_ though? This place is a perfect fucking paradise, right? You scared of someone popping you off?”

“There’s no harm in safety. I’m an authority figure, and this is politics.”

“I fucking hate politics.”

“You don’t have to take the job. Someone will come along. Someone bigger and stronger.”

_Ouch._

Negan huffed, taking the blow to his pride. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. Look, I’ll fucking take the job. Shit. Is guarding you when you take a shit all I’ll be doing?”

“No,” Mason replied. “You’ll also be assisting Vanessa.”

“You mean guarding?”

“No. Assisting. She’s getting swamped - this community is growing. When you’re not out with me, you’ll be helping her keep track of and everyone and, well, everything. It’ll be heavy work until we find another guard and start rotating shifts.”

“Does it come with benefits? Healthcare? Social Security?”  
“Funny,” Vanessa said dryly. She jotted a few things down. “What you’ll be earning is enough for both you and your lady friend. This is a new job - an important job. You’re _important.”_

“So I best not fuck it up,” Negan winked. “Got it. Nice talk. When do I start?”

Mason grinned.

“Now.”

~ ` ~ ~

“You have enough cash for this jacket,” Irvin mumbled. He was a pudgy man with glasses and a balding head. He simply waved at Negan, rearranging the various clothes and accessories spread across the foldable table in his living room. The place was bustling as people walked through the bottom floor of his home, looking at what he had to sell.

The jacket was black leather, just the right size. It had pockets. Anything with pockets was good in Negan’s book.

Negan gnawed on his lower lip. “I’ll take it.”

Irvin nodded. The exchange was quick, and Negan slid the piece of fabric on. It fit better than he thought.

_I’m not losing my sense of style during the end of the world._

Negan began perusing the rest of the store, sliding through the crowd and making his way to the back.  Another table covered in clothing sat, and Negan began shuffling through it in hopes of finding something for Carly.

He stopped.

_It had to be a coincidence._

He remembered Pete in his final moments. He’d been wearing an orange shirt and green pants and little white sneakers. The outfit Negan held in his hand resembled that exactly, and immediately, Negan’s stomach coiled in on itself.

_It had to be a coincidence._

The little stains on the shirt, little flecks, barely noticeable, told Negan otherwise.

He finally noticed that the shirt wasn’t the only thing familiar. He spotted a black dress - Doris’s black dress, and the pear necklace she always wore to school. He noticed gym sneakers, belts, fucking _lanyards._

The cherry on top was the final jewel from Negan’s former workplace.

The medal his basketball team had won three years prior. It had been hanging in Negan’s office, and now it was here, lying on a pile of dead children’s clothing stamped with a price tag of _two fucking dollars._

 _“_ You alright dude?”  
Negan spun, shoulder’s sagging. A man stood before him, adjusting his glasses and peering at Negan curiously. The man was small and wiry, but held an air of extreme strength and intelligence.

“I’m fucking fine.”

“Wow. You’ve got quite a mouth on you,” the man chuckled. He extended a hand. “I’m Albert. I’m the treasurer.”  
Negan tried to stifle his anger for a moment. He shook Alberts hand, staring down at the smaller man. “Negan.”

“I know. You’re Mason’s guard.”

“Yeah,” Negan said gruffly, eyes flickering back to Pete’s outfit. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat, but he shut it down and met Albert’s gaze. “I am.”

“Cool,” Albert adjusted his glasses once more, like a nervous tic, almost. “I’m glad Mason has you. He’s important to a lot of the people here.”

Dryly, Negan replied, “I’ve heard.”

“I hope he becomes important to you, too. And too…uh, what’s her name? The woman you live with?”

“Carly,” Negan narrowed his eyes, before relaxing just a bit. This small, skittish man wasn’t a threat. Hell, he looked as if he didn’t know what the hell was going on. The sensible part of Negan began projecting his anger towards Mason.

“Carly,” Albert said the name with admiration. “You two aren’t together, right? That’s what Vanessa told me. You’re just friends?”

“Why? You want to date her?”

“She’s hot,” Albert admitted, shrugging. “I’m a simple guy, and she seems nice.”

“She’s single,” Negan raised his hands. “Go crazy. Just make sure you treat her real fucking nice.”

Albert nodded wildly. He disappeared from view, and Negan spun back around, rubbing the fabric of Pete’s shirt between his fingers. He considered buying it for Carly. Not to malicious, but to _show_ her. These people were not who they said they were.

Negan closed his eyes and imagined Carly’s face, and the pain, the _agony_ she’d feel. He squeezed the orange shirt before discarding it on the table, ignoring the urge to go find Mason and _strangle_ him.

“Find everything alright?”

Negan stopped at the sound of Irvin’s words. He turned to the man, stopping.  Hesitantly, Negan pointed to the table at the back of the room.

“Where did you get those clothes from? And the medal?”  
Irvin shrugged, smoothing out a shirt. “Some school. Dylan and his boys scavenged the place out, found a ton of clothes. We took them.”

Negan’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue and nodded. “Thank’s.”

“No problem.”

_Oh, there was a problem._

~ ~ ~

“Check that house,” Dylan’s voice cracked through the walkie, low and gruff. Carly stiffened, feeling Sarah move next to her. In the backseat sad two men, Gus and Chance. They had guns - one pistol, one rifle. Carly prayed the two men knew how to use them.

Sarah pulled the car to a stop. She hopped out, brandishing a machete. Instinctively, Carly gripped her own weapon - a hatchet Dylan had given her. The man had given her a short demo before entrusting Carly with the weapon, stating that she’d “learn as she worked.”

She heard tires against gravel, and Dylan’s vehicle pulled to a stop behind them. Dylan was the first to exit the vehicle, his boots crunching against the dirt. He held an assault rifle, his grip strong on the weapon. He, like Eli and Steven, was military. Ex-military, now. He was a dark haired man with an even darker smile, his bright eyes filled with far too much vigor. He’d been enthusiastic while training Carly, explaining how “awesome” it was to see a roamers head explode upon impact with a bullet.

Roamers. That’s what they were calling the undead. The name worked, and Carly sure wasn’t going to try and come up with anything better. Walkers, maybe?  
No. That sounded _dumb_.

“Eyes open, ladies and gents,” Dylan said loudly. “And remember what we talked about.”

Carly nodded alongside the others. Dylan met her eye and winked, advancing towards the house with confidence. Sarah and Gus spread out, looping around each side of the house while Dylan shouldered open the door, aiming his rifle into the living room. He jerked his chin and Carly bypassed him, holding her hatchet and surveying the room. The living room opened up, giving Carly a clear path to the dining room. She stepped through, knuckles white from gripping her hatchet. She heard noises from the back of the house, then the sound of a door opening and Sarah’s voice calling out, “Clear!”

Carly huffed. The place was abandoned it seemed, though the furniture was flecked with dark stains. Carly grimaced, trying to ignore her racing thoughts. The stains were far too large, and far too fresh. The hallway leading to the bedrooms was filled with broken glass, and the door to the farthest room at the end of the hallway was open.

Carly sighed, curiosity getting the better of her. She stopped halfway when a   shadow flickered across the wall, emitting from the bedroom.

Carly raised her hatchet. One walker would be enough to handle. She crept forward, peering around the corner before yanking open the door.

No walkers or roamers or whatever. The shadow she’d seen belonged to a teenage girl.

Carly stopped. The girl looked up, dark hair falling across her face. Next to her were two boys, much younger but young enough to realize that the world around them had become far more deadly than before.

“Hey,” Carly said softly. She sheathed her hatchet, immediately crouching down and getting eye level with the three children. She sighed, extending a hand. “Are you three alright?”

The girl shook her head. The boys stared.

“Where are you parents?”

“Dead.”

_The bloodstains._

“Okay,” Carly let out a shuddering breath. “You can’t stay here. It’s dangerous-”

“Whoa!” Dylan’s boots thudded against the hardwood floor. “Damn.”

Carly stiffened. Dylan’s fingers brushed against her hair as he stepped into the room, staring down at the three children. They shrunk away, not meeting his eye.

Dylan studied the kids for a few moments. Then, he said happily, “Is that Hollister?”

Silence.

“Hollister,” Dylan continued. “The company. Your shirt and your shoes.”

The teenager girl glanced down at her clothing. She picked at it, answering Dylan in a small voice. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay,” Dylan nodded, smiling softly. “Looks good on you, kid.”

Then he shot the girl point blank in the face.

Carly cried out. Flecks of blood hit her and she fell back onto her rear. Her body was paralyzed with shock and terror as two more shots exploded behind her.

The two boys slumped over dead. Dylan cursed, pushing Carly to the side and stepping over the three corpses.

Carly’s watched, mouth agape. Blood trickled down her cheek and onto her neck. She watched, legs shaking, as Dylan began undressing the three children, neatly folding their clothes and shoving them into his own backpack.

“What the hell?” Carly gasped. She stood, backing against the doorframe. “Why would you do this—?”

“Hollister is high quality. Irvin requested it,” Dylan forced the girls sneakers into his backpack. He stopped, looking up at Carly. His sudden grin was disturbing, troubled, almost. He purred, “You scared, baby?”

“Don’t call me that,” Carly snapped. Her fingers gripped the doorframe and she craned her neck, making herself taller as Dylan approached her.

“You’ve gotta get your hands …dirty. We’re on the job.”

“You didn’t have to kill those kids. We should have taken them in. They’re parents are…” Carly gulped. “They’d lost their parents.” 

“Like I’m supposed to give a shit? They’re kids. Neighborhood already has plenty of kids,” Dylan growled. “They would have died anyway, especially those two little boys-”

Carly’s punch was rage-fueled and hard. Dylan stumbled back, cursing. For a moment Carly believed he’d kill her with the rifle in his hands.

He didn’t. He leaned against the wall, a grin splitting across his face as blood trickled from his nose. It covered his teeth, and he licked them.

“You like this in the sack, baby? C’mon,” he advanced once more, cooing. “Hit me again.”

“The world doesn’t need people like you,” Carly snarled. “You’re…sick.”

“Then cure me, _doctor._ ”


	5. Lockdown

Carly confronted Dylan the next morning. He always kept his garage door open, showing off his weapons to the world. He had a lawn chair in the driveway, and as Carly approached, he was sitting and reading an old magazine. He didn’t look up as Carly walked over to him, her body blocking the sun as she towered over his seated form.

“You alright, baby? You have an aura about you,” Dylan didn’t look up from his magazine. Softly, he said, “Are you on your period?”

“If you don’t stand up right now, someone’s going to be bleeding. And it ain’t gonna be me,” Carly gripped the magazine and pulled, tearing it from his grip. Immediately Dylan stood with such quickness and ferocity that his lawn chair fell back. Carly didn’t shrink away, but instead stood tall and stiff.

“Is that a threat?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Dylan smirked, tilting his head. “What do you want, baby?”

Carly growled, “I want you to first stop calling me baby. Second, I want you to explain why you shot those kids.”

Dylan slunk back, righting his fallen lawn chair before spinning and trotting into his garage. Cursing, Carly followed him, stopping when he reached one of the tables and picked up something long and curved.

Dylan spun, holding the crowbar lightly. Carly shrunk back just a bit, lips curling up into a snarl. She growled, “Fuck off with that. Explain to me why you felt it necessary to slaughter those kids.”

“I already told you,” Dylan said irritably. “Irvin wanted Hollister. Those kids wouldn’t have made it anyway.”

“ _Helping_ them is what you should be about. You’re right - they wouldn’t have survived. But we were there, and we could have done something. We could have protected them, helped them. Given them a home.”

“Mason has a quota. Until we’re able to expand this place, we can only take in certain amounts of people,” Dylan smirked, resting the crowbar against his shoulder. “I like you, Carly. I really do. But stay out of politics.”

“I do what I want, when I want. If I want to stick my nose in your ‘politics,’ I will.”

Dylan’s laugh was low and filled with ire. Carly felt the cool end of the crowbar press against her throat as Dylan stepped closer.

“ _God_ I love you. So _intense_. When you hit me I was going to kill you,” Dylan admitted. “I kind of want to kill you now. Beat your skull in with this crowbar. But I’m not because I’m a _good dude,_ and _Negan_ probably wouldn’t be cool with it. He’s a big guy. He kind of scares me.”

“He should scare you,” Carly clenched her teeth, feeling the crowbar move up her neck and press agains her cheek, hard.

“He does. But Mason scares me even more,” Dylan pulled the crowbar away, shooing Carly from the garage. “Go, go. Baby, you have a job to do. We all have jobs. If you don’t like it, go somewhere else. Run along, now. Give Negan my regards.”

~ ~ ~

Negan and Mason took a walk that afternoon. The sun was beginning to set, and Neighborhood was quiet. A few children played on the swing sets next to the pool, which had been covered with a tarp.

“We need to find a way to clean that,” Mason muttered. “Did your school have a pool?”  
“No. We didn’t have a swim team.”

“I used to swim. Wish I’d continued,” Mason replied, stopping and glancing at Negan. “I like competition.”

“Fucking agree,” Negan said, smiling softly. His rage had boiled down into something else - an ache in his stomach. He wanted to get back to the house and see Carly. “There’s a pool table in the clubhouse, right?”

“There is.”

“Well fuck, man,” Negan slapped Mason’s shoulder. “We’ll have to get everyone together and play sometime! God knows we could all use a fucking break.”

“Definitely,” Mason smiled softly, and they continued to walk. “I..I want Vanessa and Carly to meet. Carly would be good for Vanessa. She seems outgoing.” 

_Oh, God._

“She’s fucking outgoing. Even after—” Negan stopped, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

“After what?” 

“Carly lost her son a little while after she and I met. He got..eaten. By a roamer or a walker or whatever you call them.”

Mason nodded, ducking his head a bit. He replied softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Wasn’t my fucking kid. Carly’s coping, I think. I hope.”

“What about you?” Mason asked.

“What?”

“Carly isn’t your wife. You two met on the road - what happened before that, with you?” Mason seemed genuinely curious. “Vanessa and I are lucky. We’ve been holed up here since it started. People like Eliiot and Steven haven’t.”

Negan scratched the back of his neck, hesitant to spill his sob-story to Mason. This _man_ , who’d been involved in the killing of Carly’s son.

_Need to keep on his good side._

“My wife was sick with cancer. I was in the hospital with her when this all started - she didn’t make it. I left and found Carly,” Negan said quickly. “That’s it. That’s what fucking happened.” 

“I can’t imagine,” Mason shuddered, letting out a breath. “Losing Vanessa like that.”

“I can’t fucking imagine losing Carly either. That’s the hard part, now. Keeping her safe. I feel like I fucking have to.”

Mason frowned. “You two aren’t together, though?” 

“Doesn’t fucking matter. I still feel like she’s my responsibility. I owe her, too. She helped me, I help her.”

Carly was his responsibility. Negan could admit that too himself. Whether it was a rebound or not, his feelings for the woman had grown. it was almost similar to how he’d felt about Lucille, long before they’d gotten married. A strong desire to protect. Shelter.  

“Would you kill for her?”

Negan’s eyes narrowed. His fist clenched, but he managed to reply to Mason in an even tone. “I don’t know.”

_Yes you do._

“Then you’re not protecting her.”

“Why would I need to fucking kill? We’re safe here, aren’t we? This is _paradise_.”

“It’s paradise because of people like me, and Dylan, and Albert. We make sacrifices,” Mason stressed. “I might need you to do the same, eventually.”

“You ever killed before?” Negan crossed his arms.

“I have. It’s always been for the greater good. Upon securing this place, the chaos had to be controlled. There are still those lurking here who disapprove of my unorthodox methods of maintaining order.”  
“Yeah. I fucking get it,” Negan nodded. “Your paranoid.”

“It happens,” Mason said dryly. “I’m doing this for myself, and for Vanessa. You’d do the same for Lucille - for Carly.”

Negan nodded. “Maybe.”

_I would._

~ ~ ~

When Negan returned to the house, Carly was there, sitting on the couch, chewing on her nail. Her eyes were red rimmed, as if she’d been crying. Or smoking. Or both.

“Hey,” Negan unzipped his jacket, shrugging it from his shoulders. He stopped when Carly didn’t reply. “What’s wrong?”

“Dylan murdered three children. Right in front of me. He wanted their clothes.”

Negan stopped. He laid his jacket across the arm of the couch, coming to sit next to Carly. The woman dropped her hand, leaning against the couch and turning her head to stare at him.

“Cary—”

“He’s a monster, Negan.”

“I know.”

Carly raised her eyebrows. She closed her eyes, sighing and wiping a lone tear that trickled down her face. “You found something, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”  
In a voice that nearly broke Negan’s heart, Carly said, “Was it Pete?”

“I found his shirt. Gym clothes. Medals. Everything.”

Carly stood up abruptly. Negan heard her footsteps pound against the hardwood as she stomped into Negan’s room. He heard a door slam, and then Carly’s curses. He stood and followed her, met with the sight of her rummaging through the closet in search of her backpack.

“I’m leaving.”

“No you’re fucking not,” Negan’s fingers curled around her wrists. “Stop. Carly — fucking stop it!”

Carly, for once, listened.

The she broke down.

Her cries were softer than last time. She went limp, and instinctively, Negan’s arms wrapped around her, steadying her. He sunk to the floor, arms around Carly’s chest as she wept. She seemed split between agony and rage.

“I’ll kill them.”

“Carly. Carly, stop,” Negan restrained her. He pulled her to her feet.

Negan didn’t know how long it was. They sat on his bed, Carly staring at the wall until she ceased her cries and looked _numb_. She smoothed back her hair, the movement almost robotic. It was at least twenty minutes until she spoke again, her words barely registering in Negan’s ears.

“I want to have sex with you.”

Negan turned to her. She was smiling softly, her eyes swollen but no longer leaking.

“Not while you’re like this.”

“ _Negan._ I want it. I want you,” Carly smiled, nuzzling Negan’s cheek and pressing a soft kiss against his skin. Her fingers immediately darted to Negan’s belt, tugging at the leather.

Carly’s hands were no longer shaking, and she took hold of everything before Negan could. He fell back onto the bed, feeling Carly’s fingers slide past his zipper to grip his cock. She ran her finger over the tip, swiping away the beads of precum, before gesturing for him to remove his pants. Carly’s soft mouth wrapped around him and immediately Negan bucked his hips, crying out. His fingers tangled in her curly hair, nails scraping against her scalp. He desperately wanted to thrust into her mouth, and when he glanced down, she managed to nod as his dick hit the back of her throat. Her tongue ran against the underside before swirling around the head, sucking up his juices.

_“Shit.”_

Carly pulled away, popping his leaking cock from her mouth and sitting up, crawling back up and peering down at Negan, eye-level with him before her mouth latched around his.

“C’mere,” Negan said gruffly, sitting up and tugging the woman into his lap. “Take off your fucking shirt - fuck. Do it now.”

Carly obeyed. He hook a finger beneath her bra and tugged, dropping the piece of fabric onto the ground next to the bed. She was so beautiful, her breasts round and full and dark. Before he could get his mouth around them, Carly ran her fingers through his hair and purred, “I you inside me, now.”

“Fuck, woman,” Negan grunted. “ _Fucking hell.”_

Carly was insistent, helping Negan pull off his shirt. The process of removing their clothes was hasty, filled with groans and curses and quips until finally Negan was able to lean back, watching Carly grip his cock and lower herself onto him.

Carly’s pleasured whine was _delicious_.

“ _Fuck_ you feel goddamn _good_ ,” Negan grunted, helping Carly rock against him. He was slightly disappointed that he couldn’t taste her - he sat up, wrapping an arm around her waists and helping her sink farther onto his dick. He slid his thumb between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit and feeling her come undone around him, her cries of pleasure increasing. A bead of sweat trickled down her slender neck and Negan leaned forward, licking it away.

“Your pussy is so fucking _tight_ ,” Negan growled, tugging at her hair. He was close - so incredibly close, and this woman’s moans and cries would get him there.

“Fuck,” Carly whined. Her nails dug into his skin, creating little grooves in his shoulders. Negan thrust up into her once more and she broke, her head jerking forward to press against his shoulder as she groaned. Negan hastily pulled out, spurting onto her thighs and stomach.

“Shit,” Negan breathed, pressing a soft kiss against Carly’s mouth before falling back onto the bed, hugging the woman against him. She felt her warm breath against his neck.

After what seemed like forever, Carly stirred against him, sliding beneath the covers of the bed. Negan sat up, rubbing his eyes and staring down at the nude, motionless woman.

“Carly.”

She didn’t respond.

“Carly, baby,” Negan stroked her hair. “Do you want to take a shower?”

“Only if its with you.”

Negan smiled. “Abso-fucking-loutly.”

Thirty minutes later, Carly was nuzzled against his chest, naked, her hair damp. A storm had begun outside, the wind slapping wildly against the windows. A light rain was falling, and the sound was almost comforting to Negan. A sign that the world hadn’t changed, only the people in it.

Carly slid from the bed. Negan watched her swaying hips and her perfect, round ass as she walked over to the closet, making a show of bending over as she rummaged through the boxes and clothes for second.

“I brought you back something.”

Negan smirked, running a hand across his forehead. He peered across the room, watching as Carly held up a baseball bat.

“Surprise.”

“I don’t even fucking play baseball,” Negan rumbled, chuckling as Carly crawled back into the bed, holding the bat and resting it against Negan’s chest. She giggled, watching his reaction.

“I fucking love it,” Negan held up the bat, running his hand across its smooth edges. “Perfect.”

“I try.”

Negan chuckled, resting the bat against the wall, tugging Carly in for a kiss. “C’mere.”

~ ~ ~

“I’m thinking about reinforcing these,” Mason pointed to the steel fence. “Start having more people on guard duty, since we’re getting more supplies and more cash. I can talk with Albert about that.”

Negan nodded, adjusting the backpack strapped to his shoulder, which carried his bat, the handle stuck out the top. Carly trailed behind them, studying the fences with a keen eye. She kept silent, arms crossed as she listened to the two men.

“Maybe I’ll put you in charge of the guards instead,” Mason smirked. “It would be an upgrade. You’d get payed even more, of course. You seem like a natural leader - people would listen to you.”

“He’s gotta learn some manners first,” Carly said from behind them, laughing. She leaped away from Negan’s playful jab, reaching up to flick his ear.

“Maybe. Fucking maybe. I’d have this one on guard with me,” Negan jerked his chin towards Carly. “You’re good with guns, right?”

“So-so. What about you, Mason?” Carly raised her eyebrows. “I can’t see you with a gun. You’re always so…fresh.”

Mason scratched the stubble growing on his face, laughing off Carly’s comment. He said, “You wouldn’t want me as part of the guard. I’d much rather spend my time organizing.”

“We’d much rather have you organizing,” Carly smiled sweetly. “If you get shot whose going to lead? _Negan?_ ”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You did that last night,” Carly grumbled. Negan turned a bright red, and Mason let out a bellowing laugh. He shook his head, waving a finger at Negan.

“Vanessa and I made bets.”

_“Really?”_

“We knew something would happen,” Mason admitted shyly. “We could see it - I could see it when I first met you. Was it casual sex? Just needed to let out some steam?”

“Yeah,” Carly replied, turning a bright red. She shimmied away from Negan, turning to focus on the fence. “How about this fence, huh? It’s a nice fence. Let’s focus on that.”

“Sure—”

An earsplitting shout rung across Neighborhood. Mason’s name was being called frantically from the front gate by a very distressed guard - Jake, maybe? Negan didn’t have time to ask. He took off after Mason, towards the main gate. An undead latched onto the fence, reaching through the bars, though he could barely get his arm through. Negan cursed, pulling out his bat.

Jake was sitting on what used to be a functioning military Humvee, peering through the scope of his sniper and over the main iron gate. He tore his gaze away from the scope as Mason, Carly and Negan approached.

“It’s Steven. He’s running - he looks hurt!”

Mason’s face paled for a moment. Negan was impressed at how quickly he snapped into action, gesturing for Negan to help him open the gate. Negan pulled open one of the double doors, and he saw Carly draw her hatchet.

“I’ll get him.”

Suddenly, Jake shouted, “ _He’s been bitten_!”

Mason cursed, which was a rarity. He backtracked, reaching out to stop Carly as she darted past him and into the open.

Steven was running, a horde of the undead trailing behind him. Negan, even from a distance, could see the jagged bite mark in his shoulder, which bled like a garden hose. He was screaming, waving his arms, his military fatigues soaked in blood. He appeared to be limping, and his knee was soaked in crimson.

“Carly!”

Jake fired off a shot. A roamer toppled while Carly swung her hatchet at another, successfully killing it.

She was almost to Steven, her arm extended, when he toppled. Jake fired off several more shots, clearing the way, but with each shot he became closer and closer to running out of bullets before _click._ Nothing.

Negan ran, leaving the gate open.

_Have to get to her._

Steven screamed as the undead’s teeth tore into his hand. He tugged, ripping away chunks of flesh. He grabbed Carly but his flesh was too slippery with liquid, and he fell again. Negan reached Carly, practically dragging her away as the undead began to congregate around him.

_“No! Let go!”_

They bypassed the gate. Carly slid from Negan’s grip, falling. He was face with a dilemma, now. A decision. Steven was still struggling, bogged down by his injuries, but still moving. He shoved the undead aside, fueled by adrenaline.

“Close the gate,” Mason said strongly. He stood, his eyes focused on Steven. Then, again, but this time louder. “Close the gate, Negan.”

Negan glanced down at Carly. Her mouth was agape, watching as Steven extended an arm, begging. Crying.

“Close the gate! Now!”

Praying.

_“Close it!”_

Negan did. He slammed the gate shut just as Steven and the undead reached it. Negan heard the thud, followed by Steven’s wails of misery before the undead reduced him to absolute silence.

_Then, nothing._


	6. Smashing Pumpkins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: So this chapter is extremely violent - like, really really graphic. My stomach felt sick writing it, so if you're squeamish, I suggest skipping the last part of this chapter. Happy reading.

Steven’s body was recovered that night. Carly watched them from the window of the ornate home she and Negan shared, her lips pressed into a thin line. She could hear Negan in the shower. He’d requested for her to join him but she’d refused, not out of anger, but out of exhaustion.

She heard the water cut off, then, after a minute or so, Negan’s footsteps. She felt his breath against her neck as he settled behind her, his mouth pressing wet, gentle kisses against her skin.

“Are you still upset with me?”

Carly dipped her head, and Negan stopped his soft kisses. “I’m frustrated.”

“With me?”

Carly laughed, leaning into Negan’s touch. “You made a choice, Negan. So did I. Steven wasn’t going to make it, anyway. I don’t know why I thought he would.”

“Mason fucking abandoned him.”

“So did you.”

“That man trusts me,” Negan said softly. “He trusts us, but he doesn’t know us. I need him to keep fucking trusting us. That’s why I did what he said.” Negan released her, padding over to the bed. He added, “The shower is yours.”

“Are you going to kill Mason?”

Negan didn’t reply for a second. Carly turned to him, moving towards the bed cautiously. Negan patted his lap and Carly slid against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pressed a kiss against his clean-shaven cheek.

“I would. I don’t know,” Negan said morbidly. “I don’t know if I have the fucking strength. I didn’t even - fuck. I couldn’t even fucking put down Lucille.”

“This is something none of us were prepared for. The fact that you’re here, right now, alive, means that you’re strong. Don’t ever forget that. You keep going, no matter what.”

Negan’s mouth pressed against hers, insistent and demanding. Carly returned the gesture, nipping at his lower lip before pulling away.

“I’m going to go shower. I smell.”

Negan huffed, giving her a quick, chaste kiss before slipping into bed. Carly watched him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she gently shut the bathroom door.

~ ~ ~

Six weeks passed. Six weeks of normalcy - Carly participated in several runs, staying in Dylan’s graces while denying his advances. He didn’t want her purely for sex, Carly began to realize. Dylan was immensely jealous of Negan - his looks, his sheer masculinity, and the fact that Carly had chosen him instead.

It happened during her visit to the clinic. Check-ups were required per Mason’s orders, and they were paid off once a month. Carly was delivering supplies to Mariah, and she’d insisted that Carly go ahead and get it over with. It would be easier with her here.

Carly did. Only when Mariah made an off-hand comment about her menstrual cycle did Carly begin to think. She thought hard, and her thoughts led to words, and her words led to action.

An hour later, Carly was staring at the little plus sign.

She was pregnant.

She cursed herself, first. They weren’t spending money on condoms - they’d both agreed that the sacrifice was too great. She’d relied on Negan to pull out in time - _the slow bastard!_

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Carly growled. Mariah looked at her, eyes wide.

“Y-you aren’t happy?”

“I’m happy,” Carly replied, laughing. “I’m laughing, and I’m going to _kill_ him for this.”

“Mason will be happy!” Mariah explained. “He and Vanessa want to have a baby, too.”

“This wasn’t planned.”

Mariah smiled, handing Carly the pregnancy test as she hopped down from the table. Mariah’s full smile and comforting demeanor immediately settled Carly’s nerves, and she grinned back at the woman.

“This is a safe place to raise a kid. And trust me, Mason cares about all of us. He’ll do his best to help you three out and make it fair.”

Carly ducked her head, nodding. Softly, she said, “We’re not ready. I’m not ready - not now. Not after…my son. Pete. I lost him a month ago.”

“Sweetie,” Mariah placed a hand against Carly’s shoulder. “I know this is unexpected, but we’ll _help_ you. And Negan loves you, doesn’t he?”

Carly didn’t reply. Mariah raised her eyebrows, before suddenly realizing what Carly’s silence mean. She let out a breath, nodding slowly.

Carly replied, “I don’t know.”

_You know how you feel about him._

_You know. You’ve always known._

“He’ll come around,” Mariah said confidently.

“He’ll love this kid. I know he will. Believe it or not, I’ve been in this situation before,” Carly leaned against the medical table, closing her eyes. “I was young when I had Pete. Really young. It wasn’t…supposed to happen. His dad cared for him - tried to.   It was hard. We didn’t love each other.”

Mariah listened carefully, and when Carly opened her eyes, the woman’s pitying gaze made her want to leave the room. Tears prickled at her eyes but she shoved them down, biting her lip and turning to leave.

“Carly.”

Carly turned. Mariah’s voice was softer than before, filled with kindness.

“I know saying ‘don’t worry’ won’t help but…just know that you have me. You have all of us.”

Carly waved a hand, beaming, reassured by Mariah’s words.

“Thank you.”

~ ~ ~

Willingly knocking on Dylan’s door was something Carly didn’t want to do. But she found herself doing it, tapping three times on the mahogany door to Dylan’s home.

It swung open, soft music wafting from within the home. Dylan, a beer can in his hand, stared down at her. It took him a moment to recognize her in the darkness, but he did, and his grin made Carly’s stomach churn.

“Baby. Come inside.”

Carly stepped inside, the hair on the back of her neck prickling. The layout of Dylan’s home was the same as she and Negan’s, however, she and Negan didn’t keep their assault rifles lying around on the kitchen counter, on the couch, on the table…

Carly inhaled, and then exhaled. She truly believed that Dylan had a shred of human decency left. Mason was smart - he wouldn’t keep around a psychopath.

Or maybe he would. Dylan was extremely good at his job.

Maybe psychopaths got shit done in this new world.

“What do you want?” Dylan asked, shutting the door and walking over to the kitchen table. A map lay spread out across the wood, wrinkled and torn a bit. Dylan pulled out a chair, offering Carly a seat, but she gracefully refused.

“I’m leaving the scavenging team.”

Dylan raised his beer. “What for? Do you have a letter of resignation?”

“Do I need one?” Carly said dryly, crossing her arms. “Or do I need to talk with Mason?”

Dylan rolled his eyes, setting down his beer. “Why are you quitting on me? Did I scare you to badly when I shot those kids? Get over it.”

“I’m having a baby,” Carly said lowly. “Negan and I.”

“Well, shit. Congratulations,” Dylan pointed to her stomach. “Where is it?”

“In my uterus.”

“You’re walking fine. Talking good. You can still work,” Dylan replied, smirking. “But hey, you want to pussy out on me —literally? That’s fine. I’ll need something before you leave, though.”

Carly’s lips curled upward into a snarl. “I’m not giving you anything. Be lucky that I’m even talking to you. I wanted to be respectful - you are my _boss_.”

“I am your boss. We’re going to play secretary,” Dylan approached, grinning. “Turn around. Or should be play ‘The Help?’”

_You racist sack of shit._

“You’re in my space,” Carly stepped back. “And I’m leaving. Now.”

Halfway across the polished, wooden kitchen floor, and Carly stopped.

“Okay, leave. Negan better watch his back.”

Carly turned. Dylan leaned against the sink. At Carly’s glare, he raised his hands in a placating gesture and added, “I’m just saying. Don’t tell on me.”

“You threaten him, you threaten _me_.”

“You’re a loyal bitch, aren’t you?” Dylan pushed off the sink. He waved a finger, a confused look flashing across his features. He seemed to contemplate whether or not to speak, before finally saying, “I thought I was crazy. I seriously thought, when you joined the scavenging team, hell, when I first say you, that I was crazy.”

Carly backed away, her legs feeling like jelly. There was something wrong with Dylan’s expression.

“I recognized you. Like I’d seen you before, somewhere. Or I’d heard you. You had that same look on your face when I killed those kids as you did when you were screaming for some kid. Pete, right? Was that his name?”

Carly’s blood turned to ice. Her jaw dropped, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead. Her head sounded like a rhythmic thunderstorm, blood roaring in her ears.

_Pete._

“I killed him. Shot the little bastard clean between the eyes.”

Carly whined. Dylan took advantage of her sudden paralysis, grasping her face with one hand and squeezing her cheeks.

“Bet you’ll shut the fuck up now,” Dylan cooed. “And turn around.”

Carly’s fists moved. She clocked Dylan in the face for the second time, nails scratching at his flesh. He roared, his big hand gripping a fistful of her hair and tossing her like a rag across the floor. She fell, hard, making a bruising connecting with the wooden floorboards.

“It’s so sad. You could have avoided this,” Dylan’s grunted. “Stubborn bitch.”

Carly’s stare was unwavering. She felt Dylan grab her by the hair once more, her roots screaming in protest as he hauled her up, slamming her against the kitchen counter.

_GrabthevasegrabthvaseNOW_

Carly listened to the voice shrieking in her head. Her fingers yanked the empty vase from where it sat, pushed up against the corner. She swung back, her shoulder twisting in its socket, and slammed the vase agains Dylan’s face.

He bellowed and released her. Carly spun, kicking him away. He had glass in his eyes and in his bear, buried in his skin.

Carly could have run. She didn’t. Couldn’t.

The sweet face of her little boy stared back of her. And he was smiling.

_“Mom.”_

That had been his first word.

She grabbed the closest blunt item she could find — a metal paper towel holder, empty. Her fingers curled around its thing, cylinder end. With strength she wasn’t even aware she _possessed_ she swung it off the counter and brought it down upon Dylan’s head, just as he began standing up.

It was like hitting someone with a sledgehammer. Dylan’s skull caved in like a fallen pie crust, and he sunk to the floor. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth like a garden hose, the sheer force of the hit pushing his brain farther down.

Carly didn’t see that. She saw red. Death.

_“I’ll!”_

She hit him again.

_“Fucking.”_

Again.

_“Kill.”_

Again.

_“You.”_

Pieces of Dylan’s skull, parts of his brain, littered the floor. His legs were spasming wildly and Carly smashed the metal into his flesh, beaten in the top of his head so hard that she could see pieces of his jaw. Her screams were far from human, rising in volume as she hit him again and again and again.

The towel holder slipped from her fingers. She felt back, and sat against the cabinet.

She recognized Dylan’s torso and his feet and legs. Nothing above that was recognizable - just a mass of mangled flesh. She thought she saw an eye somewhere.

She wailed. It was a cross between a strangled cry and a sob.

_I have to leave._

A sharp pain hit her, suddenly. She’d dislocated her shoulder. She’d beaten Dylan so hard that she’d popped the bone out of its socket.

She wiped a streak of blood from her cheek. It was all over her - her shirt, her face and arms and legs. She wobbled, slipped a bit on some blood.

Carly leaned over and vomited.

Then she ran.


	7. The Lodge

“It looks like his head fucking exploded,” Negan’s stomach rolled and he glanced away. 

_Carly had done this._

“I can see that,” Mason stepped over a chunk of Dylan’s skull. Attached to it, still, was skin and Dylan’s brown hair. He gulped, swaying on his feet a little. “Jake saw her jump the fence last night. Said he saw her through his scope and didn’t shoot.”

_Thank God._

“You sure your girl is who she says she is?” Mason narrowed his eyes. He gestured to Dylan’s body, which hadn’t been moved. There was blood everywhere — on the counter, on the floor. The sheer _brutality_ of it all had Negan questioning whether or not Mason had a point.

Then, he thought about it.

“No. She did this for a reason. She was defending herself—”

“We don’t know that. You call this defense?” Mason said suddenly, his voice high and shrill. He was pale and shaking, unable to look at Dylan’s corpse. “This is murder. And we don’t tolerate murder here.”

_Fucking hypocrite._

Negan bit her tongue to keep from saying something wrong. Mason couldn’t know. Not yet. The sheer irony of the man’s words almost made him smirk. 

“Let me go after her.”

“No. Not alone,” Mason snapped. “You’ll clean this up, first, and then you’ll leave with Elliot. The two of you will go search for her.”

Negan tried his best not to groan, but was unable to fully hide his ire. Mason left the home, slamming the door behind him. Negan was left with the brutalized, mangled corpse of Dylan. 

_Good riddance._

~ ~ ~

Vanessa became the third member of their party. Mason had protested vehemently, but ultimately, Vanessa had won the argument. Negan wasn’t surprised. Sometimes he wondered which member of the couple was in charge.

“I know the area better than Elliot,” Vanessa said confidently. She slid into the back seat of the van, resting her gun next to her. Negan glanced at her through the rearview, and she smirked. “You worried about your girl?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We’ll bring her back alive,” Vanessa examined her nails, crossing her legs as the van lurched forward, driven by Elliot, and drove through the front gate. “See what Mason decides to do with her.”

“Put her on fucking trial?” Negan questioned, snorting. “This is what you people fucking do, right? This is the real fucking world with the same fucking rules.”

“Rules that your girl broke,” Vanessa hissed. She leaned back. “I never trusted you, or her.”

“The hell did I do?”

“I warned Mason about letting in outsiders. Stragglers.”

Negan licked his lips. He could feel Elliot’s flickering gaze on him, and he could feel Vanessa’s arrogance, palpable even from the back seat. He said, “I see what this shit is about. You’ve been fucking holed up here since it started, you and your husband. Your money protected you.”

Vanessa didn’t reply. 

“This?” Negan gestured to the trees as they sped by, to the hobbling, humanoid creatures stumbling through the woods. “This is the real fucking world, Vanessa. Money doesn’t mean shit anymore. Having it doesn’t mean shit - you’re no better than me, or Carly, or fucking Elliot here.”

“We’ve built something,” Vanessa said softly. “You haven’t. You’re alive because of us. You provide for us. You _work_ for us.”

“I could still kill you. Wouldn’t mean shit. Doesn’t mean shit, anymore.”

It was a veiled threat. Negan shivered at his own nonchalance - he’d never threatened to murder someone before. This was different than Dave - a part of him was certain, now, that he had the audacity to wrap his fingers around Vanessa’s slender little neck and _twist._

_Like killing a chicken. One move, then snap._

“Hold up,” Elliot suddenly said. “We taking this route, Vanessa?”

Vanessa and Negan both sat up, peering forward. The bridge before them stretched across a river littered with debris. The undead milled around towards the center, the sound of the car engine attracting their attention.

“Stop,” Vanessa instructed, grabbing her gun. “How many do you see?”

“About two dozen. Did you bring your machete?”

“Yeah,” Elliot said. He coughed, reaching beneath his feet. He watched Negan out of the corner of his eyes, waiting for him to react. Negan did nothing. He knew better. 

“Go forward. Lower the window - let them come to us. Go one by one and make sure the bodies don’t get stuck.”

The process began, slowly, but surely. Elliot eased the car forward and onto the bridge, tires crunching against little pieces of debris and trash. Elliot rolled his window down, and Vanessa did the same. The roamers immediately began congregating around the van, gnashing teeth looking for a warm meal.

Negan grimaced as Elliot thrust his machete into the forehead of the first roamer. Vanessa, having pulled out a bowie knife, began doing the same. With each kill, Elliot would move the van forward, inch by inch. Slowly, but surely.

Five minutes, and they were in the center of the bridge, a small mass of roamers scratching at the van.

“Keep going. Ram them if you have too—”

The bridge groaned, and Negan experienced the strangest sensation of weightlessness before he realized that the structure beneath them had collapsed, the middle portion caving in and sending everyone and everything plunging towards the river below.

_Fuck. Me. Fuck. Gravity._

A chunk of concrete landed with a splash, partially submerged. The face slammed hood first onto the chunk, and the windshield exploded into little shards that pierced Negan’s skin and drew blood. The doors popped open — one popped and flew off — and the sheer force of the hit, combined with the van tilting to one side, sent Negan flying from the vehicle as if he’d been launched from a cannon, and into the water, followed by several of the undead.

He saw the van begin to sink beneath the murky brown water. A decaying hand tugged at his shirt but he kicked, pushing away from the roamer and taking it’s arm with him. The current swept him away, tugging him underwater before his back slammed hard against a submerged — _was that a fucking tree?_ — and he spiraled through the water like a top. He was fairly certain he lost consciousness for a few moments, accidentally inhaling water. 

_Get above water, get above water, now —_

Negan hit something again, and this time, he was able to grab hold of the floating van door. His hands cut into the jagged glass of the smashed window, but he barely registered the pain, sputtering for air as his hands slipped against the smooth metal. 

The current lessened, and Negan was able to kick his way to shore. He was practically dumped onto the dirt, his lungs heaving to remove the water he’d accidentally inhaled. He coughed it all up and sat on all fours.

_Holy hell_ was he in pain. Negan felt as if he’d been put through a blender. Deep grooves were etched into his arms and legs, with the most prominent being a gash in his side, just above his ribcage - a ribcage that was, most likely, either bruised or shattered. His hands were bloodied and mangled, and he was wet and shaking like a dog.

And he was alone — so he thought. 

Elliot was a persistent motherfucker. Negan almost didn’t seem him emerge from the water, standing up. He didn’t look any better than Negan. He, too, sported a bloody face and, well, a blood _everything._

Negan expected Elliot to be _motherfucking_ friendly, but no! The man decided to shit on Negan’s day a little more.

The kick to his ribs sent Negan sprawling. 

“What the _fuck!_ ”

“Get up!” Elliot bellowed. He cracked his knee against Negan’s face, and hot, fresh blood began dripping from his nose. 

“Dude, you do not want me fucking fighting back—”

Elliot hit him again. The man was strong, Negan could give him that. But he wasn’t Steven’s height or his level. He was a fucking _scrub._

_“You fucker,”_ Negan snarled. He lunged, sending Elliot falling back onto the sand. The two men wrestled like wild animals, Negan gaining the upper hand and cracking Elliot across the jaw three times before planting a knee against his chest.

Negan grasped Elliot’s throat and squeezed. 

_He’s keeping me from her._

Negan, one eyes already swollen shut and the other soon to follow, pressed down on Elliot’s jugular and watched in both horror and awe as the life drained from his eyes, and the man lay dead beneath him.

_Dead._

_Murderer._

Negan sat up, his fingers twitching and coated in blood. He flipped Elliot’s body over, grabbing his gun and pulling it from his holster. He caught his breath, doing his best to keep his breathing even as his ribs shouted in protest, strained by the fight.

_Fuck._

“Negan?”

He spun, the gun raised. 

Carly stood a yard away from him. She tilted her head, glancing at Elliot before saying, “Safety’s on.”

“Fuck you,” Negan laughed, lowering his guard and wheezing, his aching ribs not appreciating the movement. Carly stormed past him, drawing her knife and driving it into Elliot’s head, ensuring that he wouldn’t turn.

“You’re hurt,” Carly said softly. Negan grimaced as she knelt next to him, reaching to brush strands of wet hair from his face. “Like…badly.”

“Thanks,” Negan grunted. He got to his feet, hissing as his body protested. Carly placed her palm against his chest, helping him walk, away from Elliot’s corpse. He said, “you have a lot of shit to fucking explain.”

“I know,” Carly’s voice was hallow. She drew her knife, slashing an approaching roamer. She ushered Negan along, quickly, ducking through the underbrush. It took them a good ten minutes to reach their destination - a cabin surrounded by a twisted barbed wire fence and a bolted gate. 

“We’ll talk inside, after I patch you up,” Carly murmured. She helped Negan up the stairs and into the home, shutting and locking the door behind her. The interior of the cabin was rather homely, with an empty brick fireplace, a couch, and a staircase leading to a small loft. Carly was using oil lanterns as a source of light, for the cabin had no electricity. A metal bucket sat in the sink, filled with water. 

“Sit down,” Carly murmured. Negan obeyed, easing onto the couch. He stared up at Carly, and finally noticed her overall appearance. 

“Who hit you?”

Carly’s face was bruised. She shrugged, toying with the hem of her shirt. “Dylan.”

“You killed him?”

Carly nodded, and her face looked pained. “Yeah. I did. That was me.”

Negan sat up, groaning at the sharp pain in his ribcage. Carly gestured for him to stay, disappearing out of sight before returning with a wool blanket and the bucket of water. 

“Take off your shirt. Pant’s, too.”

“Sex? Right now?” Negan laughed, and Carly rolled her eyes. “I’m in a bit of a rough fucking state, doll.”

“Just do it.”

Negan hissed, and with Carly’s assistance, peeled off his wet shirt before wiggling out of his jeans. Carly took his clothes, placing them on the coffee table. She sat on the edge of the couch and began cleaning the blood from his body. 

“Did you fall off a cliff or something?”

“A bridge, actually,” Negan replied, wincing as Carly pressed a little too hard. “I was with…Elliot and Vanessa. Looking for you. The bridge fucking caved in on us.”

“I saw Elliot,” Carly said. “Is Vanessa dead?”

“I fucking hope so,” Negan rolled his eyes. “I didn’t see her. She’s probably at the bottom of the fucking river.”

Carly didn’t reply. She let the washcloth slide into the bucket. She sat up, drying her wet hands on her jeans before saying softly, “Negan, I’m pregnant.”

Negan barked a sudden laugh.

_Of fucking course._

“Is that why you fucking ran?” Negan wheezed. 

“I went to resign from the scavenging team. Dylan tried to rape me. I killed him,” Carly said quietly. “He killed Pete, too. And he was going to kill you.”

Negan watched, silent, as Carly stood and brought over more blankets. Negan extended his arms, and immediately, Carly slid against him. She pressed a soft kiss against his throat, careful not to disturb his wounds. 

“I would have killed him,” Negan said softly. His pressed his mouth against the top of Carly’s head, her warmth relaxing him almost instantly. “We’re right back to where we fucking started.”

“I can’t go back.”

“I know. I don’t want you too,” Negan said, sighing. He brushed his thumb across her cheek, and she shifted a bit, staring down at him. “Mason doesn’t care if you’re pregnant. He’ll kill you. Or he’ll have someone else do it.”

Carly sucked on her lower lip, nodding. She pressed a soft kiss against Negan’s forehead, murmuring, “You don’t need to go back there either.”

“You know what I have to do,” Negan said. Carly sighed, shaking her head, but Negan kept a firm grip on her shoulder, swiping his thumb across her cheek. “You’re pregnant.”

_He could finally believe it._

“You need medical supplies,” Negan continued, his mind racing. He clenched his teeth, steeling himself for the pain sure to come and began sitting up straight. “Mason fucking…he trusts me still. If I go back, he’ll have no reason to put me down. I don’t even have to lie,” Negan gestured to his wounds. “I’ll tell him about Vanessa. He needs to know.”

“What are you going to do then?”

_Kill him._

Negan let out a breath. “Get you supplies. Get more weapons - maybe get a car. And talk with Mason. You’re strong enough to hold this fucking place, Carly. I know you are.”

He looked into Carly’s eyes. The woman smiled weakly, nodding. She kissed him once more, slow and sweet, as if it were the last time they’d see each other.

_It wouldn’t be._

“I want you,” Negan murmured. His fingers hooked beneath her shirt, and Carly gladly allowed him to remove it. 

“You’re hurt—”

“I don’t fucking care,” Negan growled. His wounds ached but he desperately wanted — _needed_ — to be inside this woman. He growled as she slid her hand beneath his boxers, and in one quick thrust Negan was able to sink inside her. 

“ _Fucking hell_ — I missed you,” Negan snarled, burying his face into her curly hair and bucking his hips, driving into her as a rapid pace. 

“F-faster,” Carly groaned. Her nails scraped against Negan’s bicep, her mouth open. 

“Fuck,” Negan cried. The girl beneath his trembled, guiding one of Negan’s hands to her clit. She came undone after a few quick strokes of his thumb, lurching upward and catching his bottom lip beneath her teeth. Negan snarled and pulled out quickly, drenching her stomach and thighs with his release. 

Carly ran her fingers through his damp hair and Negan sagged, his injuries flaring up and aching. He didn’t care. The blissful, euphoric feeling helped mask the dull pain. 

“I love you,” Carly murmured. 

Negan hummed, but before he could reply, Carly added, “You don’t need to say it back. I don’t care. I just…I want you to know.”

_Don’t fucking cry, Negan. Don’t fucking cry._

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Carly. I fucking care so goddamn much about you. I’d fucking die for you,” Negan said hoarsely. “But I think about her, still. She’s in the back of my fucking mind, all the time. I can’t _feel_ shit anymore, Carly.”

“You don’t have to feel anything for me, Negan. You are the most important person in my life. I am _always_ on your side. Know that.”

Negan smiled, pressing his forehead against her for a moment. He was content just to lay like that, holding her. He’d do it forever, if he could.

_You have work to do._


	8. Lake Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some very graphic and disturbing material so be warned.

Mason welcomed Negan back with open arms, though his posture betrayed his overall demeanor. He was haggard, coarse stubble growing on his face. It looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping.

Negan’s wounds were treated first. Mason barely made eye contact with him, not even asking about Vanessa. The fact that Negan was alone seemed to be enough of an answer for him.

“The bridge fucking collapsed on us. It was a big fucking mess of confusion,” Negan hissed as Mariah tugged the last stitch into place. Mason sat on a chair opposite of him, arms crossed, teeth gnawing furiously on his lower lip. He raised an eyebrows, acknowledging Negan’s words.

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

Mason nodded, standing and patting Negan’s bare shoulder before tossing him his shirt. Negan tugged it on, thanking Mariah and following behind Mason as he walked towards his home.

“We don’t have enough resources to go after Vanessa,” Mason said softly. He glanced at Negan. “She’s strong. She knows her way around.”

Negan nodded, keeping his head ducked as they walked.

“You lost your wife, right?” Mason asked suddenly. He stopped on the sidewalk, his expression distant. He smiled weakly, saying, “What did you do after?”

“Mason,” Negan said softly. “She still may be alive. You said it yourself - she’s strong.”

“Strength alone isn’t enough,” Mason replied bitterly. “She’s sheltered, like me. Like all of us.”

“Just…” Negan pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’ll fucking make it back.”

“What about Carly?”

“What about her?” Negan replied. “She’s out there, somewhere. You fucking know what she means to me, Mason.”

“I know,” Mason answered solemnly. “But she will be dealt with. She murdered one of our own, Negan. As a leader I have to make an example. This has never happened before.”

“She’s pregnant, Mason.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Mason—”

“You are my bodyguard, not my advisor. If what I’ve said bothers you, resign. Find a new job. I understand that you care for her, but she’s not exempt from the law.”

“What law? What fucking law, Mason?”

“ _My_ law,” Mason quipped. “Like I said, if you have a problem with it, _leave_.”

~ ~ ~

Something was rapping against the door.

Carly’s eyes snapped open. She lay on the couch, half asleep, a warm cloth pressed against the bruises on her face. Dylan had done a number on her, and the intensity of her wounds had caught up to her after she’d taken the time to calm down.

_Surely it had to be the wind._

A shadow passed over Carly. The blinds were shut, but she could make out a figure on the porch of the cabin.

She grabbed her handgun from the coffee table, sliding from the couch and crouching down, staying low. Footsteps creaked outside, and then finally, the person revealed themselves.

Bullets sprayed into the cabin, the noise deafening. Carly dropped to the floor, cursing as the downy cushions on the couch exploded in a shower of white. She army crawled towards the kitchen, sliding behind the marble countertop.

Carly returned fire. She emptied the clip, heard a shout of pain as the intruder kicked open the mangled door. The voice was high and feminine and Carly recognized it.

_Vanessa._

“I have way more bullets than you do,” Vanessa shouted. “Come out, Carly. Do yourself a favor. I’m not going to kill you.”

“The why the fuck did you try?” Carly shouted back, already out of options. She dared a peek from around the counter and saw that yes, indeed, Vanessa was carrying an assault rifle. Carly was already out of bullets, and her last source of defense was the knife strapped to her hip.

_Fuck. Me._

“That was a warning shot,” Vanessa sneered. Carly slowly stood, sliding the handgun against the counter before raising her hands. Vanessa did not move the barrel of the gun away from her, smirking at Carly’s defeated expression.

“Come on,” Vanessa growled. She was in the same shape as Negan, her shirt ripped and blood, a long scrape running from her jawline to her lip and leaking blood. A bullet had grazed her arm and Carly could see the crimson dripping from her fingers, though she still kept a firm grip on the gun. She sneered, “Move it. You’re going back.”

Carly rolled her eyes, moving from around the counter and heading towards the door. Vanessa followed her, the barrel of the gun aimed at her back.

They took the long route, staying on the asphalt road and looping around to another bridge. Carly dispatched roamers while Vanessa watched, keeping her distance, but still keeping her gun trained on Carly.

“You’re a dead bitch when you get back,” Vanessa said. Carly ignored her.

“Not saying anything?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Carly snapped back. “You or your husband.”

Vanessa let out a long breath. Carly felt the gun poke into her back as Vanessa ushered her forward, saying, “Whatever. You’re not going to tear what we’ve built apart. I warned Mason,” she stopped, and for a moment, Carly thought she was crying. “He’s a smart man, but not smart enough, sometimes. He looks for the best in people. I guess you can’t do that anymore.”

“Not now,” Carly murmured. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Vanessa, hands shaking, eyes red-rimmed. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Vanessa shrugged. “Don’t know.”

_They’ll kill me._

Carly sighed. “I’m used to it. And I’m not scared.”

~ ~ ~

A knock on the door awoke Negan. He sat up, disoriented, searching for Carly’s still form that usually rested against him.

_Oh. Right._

Mason greeted him on the other side of the door. He looked somber, but Negan ignored it. Vanessa was most likely dead, after all. The man looked worse than yesterday.

“Get dressed, get your bat and let’s go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Negan rubbed his eyes. “What fucking time is it?”

“I’m not asking you again.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “Fucking fine,” he murmured, retreating into the house. He dressed quickly, staring down at the baseball bat Carly had given him before grabbing it and resting it against his shoulder.

_Gotta put some barbed wire on this shit or something._

“Ready?” Mason asked, raising his eyebrows. Negan huffed, stepping past him. It was cool and early in the morning. He wanted to be asleep. He followed Mason towards the front gate, eyes narrowing as he saw four of Dylan’s men, scavengers, loading into a car.

“The fuck is this?” Negan asked. Mason didn’t reply. “Hey, Mason—”

“You will _see_ when we get there,” Mason snapped. He opened the door to the lone sedan. Albert sat inside, staring at the ground. He did not acknowledge Negan when he slid into the backseat.

Mason closed the door, hopped into the drivers side, and then they were off.

A _very_ uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Negan’s stomach as they drove. He had no idea where they were going, had no idea why Albert was acting so fucking distant and quiet. The small man usually didn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

Even Mason wasn’t talking. Negan could see him in the rearview, glancing back every few minutes. He had a look in his eye that Negan had never seen before.

He didn’t like it.

“We’re here,” Mason said quietly. “Give me your bat and get out of the car.”

Negan hesitated. Albert spoke up, his voice soft. “Give him the bat.”

“Fucking fine,” Negan obeyed. He wrenched open the car door, boots crunching against the asphalt. He squinted up the sky, watching the sun begin to peek over the horizon. The scenery before him was unfamiliar - they were on the shore of a lake. The place was quiet, devoid of any roamers.

Negan didn’t like it at all.

“Negan?”

Carly’s voice hit him like a freight train. His blood ran cold and he turned, seeing her struggle from the car before it even came to a stop. Vanessa was next, sliding out of the passengers seat, flanked by Dylan’s scavengers. She glared at Negan before grinning slightly.

Carly ran to him. Her embrace was hard, and when she pulled away, she was crying.

_This was bad. Really, really bad._

Negan sunk to his knees, holding Carly tightly and staring up at Mason. He was watching the exchange, expression somber. He dug the end of Negan’s bat into the dirt, eyes flickering to the scavengers.

Carly was pulled from him, suddenly. She screamed. Three pairs of hands held Negan back, tugging at his jacket and his arms and neck as he lunged, reaching out as Carly was dragged by the hair like a rag doll through the dirt.

“That’s your moment,” Mason said hoarsely. He looked terribly uncomfortable. He addressed Negan. “Dylan’s crew decided what they wanted. How they wanted her punished — it’s only fair. I’m all about fairness, and you know what they chose? An eye for an eye, Negan.”

_No._

“We don’t tolerate _murder_ here,” Mason said confidently. “I really don’t want to do this.”

“Then don’t!” Negan gasped. A knee was planted against his back, forcing him into the dirt.

“You think I have a choice? If have to do something or else — we’ll, we’ll turn on each other like _animals!_ ”

_You are an animal._

“Hold her,” Mason instructed. “Vanessa, help him.”

Vanessa listened to her husband. Carly struggled and just the _sight_ made Negan scream, lurching against the three men restraining him. The movement carried him forward, and a scavengers landed a blow to the back of his head that sent him sprawling.

_Gotta get up gotta get up—_

_CRACK!_

Mason swung the bat. It connected with Carly’s chest and she gasped, mouth open. She sucked in her stomach as Mason swung again, the hit causing her to slum down. Vanessa and the scavenger quickly held her back up.

“No! Fucking no! Stop it — stop!” Negan yelled. “Stop! Don’t hurt her — Mason!”

Spittle flew from his mouth. He gave sob as Carly struggled to cry out for him.

_CRACK!_

_“Ne—”_

_CRACK!_

_“Negan!”_

There was a lot of blood, Negan noticed. Carly sagged to her knees. Five of her front teeth were gone - the blood filled her mouth and spilled onto her chin and clothes, down her neck.

CRACK!

“Let her go!” Negan’s muscles strained and he threw a wild punch. His fists connected with a scavengers nose and they howled, their hold slipping. Negan was able to sprint, his mind focused on Mason and his bat.

“Let her the fuck go!”

He tackled Mason like a linebacker. Several people yelled, and he caught a glimpse of Carly, on all fours, heaving. A string of blood hung from her mouth and her jaw was broken. She’d lost the ability to speak, and when she met Negan’s gaze, her one working eye was wide with shock and terror. The other was bulging, thrust from its socket from the impact of the baseball bat. 

Several pairs of arms tugged Negan away from Mason. Albert, Vanessa, the scavengers — it took them all. Negan’s fists were blood, pounding down upon Mason would furious abandon.

“Shoot him!” Vanessa howled.  

Mason cursed, wiping his broken nose before shouting, “No!” he grabbed the bat and Negan’s breath left his body, suddenly, the cool wooden surface of the bat making connection with his bruised ribs. He sunk to his knees, gasping. Mason spat, “Grab the girl! Hold her up and for Christ’s sake hold _him_ down! Shouldn’t be that hard!”

A hand shoved Negan’s face into the dirt. Someone else twisted his arm behind him. He was forced to watch through one eye as Vanessa and a scavenger held Carly by the hair, forcing her to her feet.

Mason gripped her face between his hands, tilting his head and just studying her for a moment.

Negan heard nothing but his own pained breathing.

Carly laughed, suddenly, blood streaming from her gauged eye. It was a gurgling snort that had Mason reeling back, but not releasing his hold.

“Fuck you,” Carly slurred through a mouthful of blood. “You have a weak swing, _chickenshit._ ”

She spat and sprayed blood onto Mason’s face. The usually composed, _posh_ man growled and brought the bat down upon her head.

Negan _screamed._

Mason hit her twenty more times. Negan watched, inhaling dust and dirt and sobbing, his cries similar to that of a child’s. Mason pummeled her body into the dirt, caving in her ribs and then the bones of her knees and arms. The final, killing blow came as Mason brought the bat down upon her neck.

Negan heard the bone crunch. Carly’s fingers, which had previously been twitching wildly, fell still. She died reaching out to Negan, her eyes red with tears.

Mason knelt over, sucking in gulps of air. He tossed the bat to the side before hobbling over to the grass and vomiting. Vanessa watched her husband before staring down at Carly’s corpse with something akin to disappointment before barking orders.

“Dump her in the lake.”

The scavengers moved. Negan saw Albert standing, staring at Carly’s body as they lifted her by the arms and legs, her head lolling to the side. Her jaw was unhinged, her face already starting to swell.

Negan, his face still pressed into the ground, watched the men splash into the water and then toss her body like a rag. She floated for a moment, before one of the men pushed her beneath the surface.

Vanessa moved to check on her husband. The men released Negan, easing away from his body. He sat up, leaning on all fours, pressing his forehead into the dirt and squeezing his eyes shut.

He yelled. The noise dwindled into a sob.

Mason padded over. Negan looked up, hearing the man sink to his knees.

“Look at me, Negan.”

Negan did nothing. Just stared at the ground. He saw a tiny beetle skitter into view, and then disappear.

“Look at me.”

“Fuck off.”

Mason punched him. It was a weak blow, but it got Negan’s attention. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to leap at the man.

“That was justice, do you understand — _look at me!_ ” Mason screamed. His breath smelled of bile and when Negan glanced up, he found himself staring into the eyes of a madman. Mason hissed, “ _That_ was law and order.”

“Mason, sir—”

“Shut up, Albert,” Mason yelled. His treasurer leaped back, fearful. “I am having a _conversation_ with this man,” he turned back to Negan. “You didn’t break the rules, understand? _She did_. So next time you show a little _respect_ when _someone gives you a job_!”

Mason’s screams echoed inside Negan’s head. The man released his collar, standing back up and stomping back to his car. “We’re leaving. Get him in the car.”

Hands were in Negan’s hair and on his face as the men dragged him back towards hell.


	9. Justice

_You tried, Negan._

_But you failed._

Negan sighed. Lucille pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead, nuzzling his cheek before gripping his hand and squeezing. She smiled, but said nothing. Negan couldn’t help but grin back, turning his head away.

_You tried._

Carly raised her eyebrows. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his cheek, sighing against his skin and pressing her hand over his heart.

Negan opened his eyes. He sat up, the covers bunching around his waist. Carly was not next to him, nor was Lucille. 

He was alone. 

Sighing, Negan slid from the bed and padded over to the closet. He opened the door, staring down at his baseball bat. He’d cleaned it, scrubbing the surface with soap and water so to remove the blood - Carly’s blood. 

_It looked too bare_.

Negan grabbed the bat by the handle, dragging it across the floor and into the kitchen. He wrenched open the cabinet door, rummaging around before he found what he was looking for.

_Hello_ barbed wire.

Negan got to work, sitting on the kitchen table, the bat in his lap. He wrapped the barbed wire around its surface, ignoring the prickling in his fingers as he squeezed the barbs a little too hard. 

_Lucille._

_You tried._

Negan rested his newly crafted weapon on the table, staring at it. 

_You tried._

_And you failed._

A muffled sob escaped him. The horrid realization of what had happened was sinking in. Carly’s face was at the forefront of it all, along with Lucille’s.

_You fucking failed._

Negan slumped against the tiled floor in defeat. 

_You fucking failed._

“Stop it,” Negan sobbed. He clutched his head between his hands. “Fucking stop it. Stop — she’s fucking gone!”

_You failed._  
There was an intense, biting agony in his chest. Carly’s screams were replaying over and over again in his brain. Her mouth, open, blood everywhere.

_“Ne—”_

_CRACK!_

_“Negan!”_

Someone was knocking on the door. Negan’s head snapped up, sweat beading on his brow and neck. He struggled to stand, hesitantly creeping towards the front door. 

“It’s Albert.”

Negan opened the door. The small man stared up at Negan, glasses resting loosely at the end of his nose. He let out a breath, meeting Negan’s gaze. He had a duffle bag over his shoulder and he seemed to be struggling to even hold it up.

“May I come in?”

“Fuckin’ sure,” Negan mumbled. He held open the door, watching Albert hoist up the bag and step inside, teeth clenched as he struggled to hold it up. Negan watched him, not moving to assist. Negan locked the door behind Albert, turning as Albert dropped the duffle bag on his kitchen table.

“What do you want?” Negan asked gruffly. 

“I want to help you.”

Negan tilted his head to the side, a smile tugging at his lips. He barked a laugh, startling Albert. 

“You can’t fucking help me. The only person who can help me is fucking dead,” Negan leaned against the wall, leering at Albert. “Did Mason send you?”

“I cared about her too, you know.”

“Answer my fucking question,” Negan growled. Albert sighed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. 

“Mason didn’t send me, Negan. I’m alone,” Albert gestured to the duffle bag before unzipping it. Negan hobbled over, eyebrows raised as he glanced inside. The bag was filled to the brim with weapons — three assault rifles, six handguns, and three round objects that Negan immediately recognized as grenades. His blood ran cold and he paled, head snapping up to meet Albert’s somber gaze. 

“Do what you need to do,” Albert said softly. “Mason is out of control. What he did to Carly—” Albert ducked his head a bit, falling silent for a moment. “It wasn’t right. That’s not justice.”

“You want me to fucking kill him?”

“I want you to do what you think is right. What would Carly have wanted you to do?”

_Stay alive. Don’t do anything stupid._

_Fight._

Negan grabbed one of the guns, testing its weight. He’d never like assault rifles, big guns. He held it out to Albert, nodding for the man to take it. Albert cautiously obeyed, the weapon ridiculously big for him. He glanced up as Negan slid a handgun into his holster, snagging a grenade before grabbing his barbed bat. 

“What’s the plan?”

“You don’t have to fucking do this, Albert. You don’t have to risk this—”

“I’m risking it. It’s not for you…It’s for her, you know? I’m sad I never got to talk to her as much as I wanted too.”

Negan smiled. “Thank you.”

_Brave bastard._

“Our plan,” Negan breathed, resting his bat against his shoulder. “Is we go in and fucking kill Mason. No negotiating. He’s going to learn,” Negan squeezed the handle of his barbed weapon. “Right off the bat. C’mon.”

They walked out the back door, feet thudding against the staircase as they walked down the back porch, partially veiled by darkness. They weren’t alone.

“Are those Jake’s guns?”

Negan hopped the last step, landing on the grass. Albert was at his side, shrinking back a bit when Vanessa’s steely gaze fell across him. 

“Do I need to ask you again?” Vanessa leered. She waved a hand. “Are you both deaf?”

“No,” Negan growled. “What are you doing back here?”

“Coming to see you.”

“With a knife?” Negan questioned. The moonlight glinted off the bowie knife strapped to her hip. “And in the dark — is that fucking all, Vanessa?”

“Stealing is an offense, here.”

“Fucking arrest me, then,” Negan growled. When Vanessa didn’t move or speak, he rolled his eyes and stepped forward, intending topush past the woman. The knife streaked across his vision, and he leaped back as Vanessa took a swing, intending to slit his throat. 

“Hey!” Albert shouted, staggering back. “Vanessa, stop!”

“Mason wouldn’t listen to me,” Vanessa snarled glaring daggers at Negan. “He just wouldn’t. I love that man but goddamn, he’s stubborn. He doesn’t listen for shit! I told him to kill you and Carly, strip you for merchandise. You two never belonged here.”

“We weren’t born fucking rich, like you people,” Negan barked. “That’s what it was. You still think that money matters in this world. 

Vanessa chuckled. “You saw what we did to your girl, right? We took her from you! That’s what money can still do!”

“That wasn’t money. That was your husband, and he’s a coward.”

Vanessa lunged. She got two steps before Negan heard a gunshot.

Vanessa’s head exploded and she fell, face forward into the dirt. Negan spun and saw Albert clutching his gun, the massive weapon aimed where Vanessa’s head hand been moments before. He was trembling, staring at the smoking muzzle with something akin to awe.

“Nice shot,” Negan commented. He stared down at Vanessa’s corpse, his lips curling upward into a smirk. 

“That, Vanessa, was _justice_.”

 

 


	10. I Will Name Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo this is the end guys XD thank you so much for reading! I had a blast writing this.

“They might have heard the gunshots. We need to haul ass, now!” Negan barked. He placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder, calming the shaking man. “You good?”

“Y-yeah.”

Negan began rummaging through Vanessa’s bag. He chuckled when he found what he was looking for— a pair of house keys. 

“Let’s go,” Negan replied softly. The two men slipped back into the shadows, heading towards Mason’s residence. He could see the light through the window, an indication that Mason was awake. The crept up the front porch, keeping lowand kneeling on either side of the door. 

Negan tossed Albert the keys. The man caught them, fumbling a bit before steadying himself and sliding the respective key into its slot. Negan raised a hand stopping him from turning the key. He held a finger to his lips and then reached for a grenade, poising to pull the pen.

“Now.”

Albert opened the door and Negan heaved the grenade inside. He heard a sudden shout, gesturing wildly for Albert to duck before the house trembled, a massive, thunderous bang sent smoke and debris flying out the open front door. 

Negan stood, his bat resting against his shoulder. He waved away the smoke, finding himself in Mason’s living room. The couch and the coffee table were destroyed, and Negan could see two bodies - Irvin and Jake, lying on the ground, twitching. Mason himself was getting to his feet, his face a bloody mess. 

“You could have knocked.”

Negan smirked. Mason’s words were mocking, but he could see the fear in the man’s eyes. He wiped the blood from his brow, raising his hands and sinking to his knees. A small fire was starting where the coffee table had once been, eating away slowly at the carpet. 

“He’s brainwashed you too, Albert?” Mason coughed. “Can't trust anyone these days, can you?”

“No,” Negan answered. “You can’t.”

Albert stepped forward. Negan didn’t see Jake’s bloody body move before it was too late and the man had pulled out his gun. 

Albert saw it. He saw it and he moved, shouting and raisin his gun to fire.

A single gunshot. 

Albert slumped over, a quarter sized hole blown through his forehead. Negan reacted, shouting and swinging his barbed bat down hard, caving in Jake’s head.The man’s arms flailed and he accidentally pulled the trigger. Negan felt the buckshot slam into his shoulder, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins dulled the pain.

Mason took the opportunity to lunge, tackling Negan. It was a bold move, but a foolish one. Negan was bigger, stronger, and angrier. He pressed his forearm against Mason’s throat, eyes watering as the smoke increased and the fire licked at the floor, dangerously close.

“Fucking get up!” Negan snarled. He removed his handgun, pressing it against Mason’s forehead as the man struggled to stand. “Fucking walk out that door. Now.” 

Mason obeyed. The grenade explosion had woken the entire neighborhood, and Negan hastily held the gun steady at the back of Mason’s head, stepping past Albert’s dead body as the flames began to consume him. 

“Around the back,” Negan instructed, easing Mason past the porch. “Walk faster.”  
“Are you going to kill me?”

“Shut the fuck up. Walk.”

They walked. Behind Mason’s house. Behind Irvin’s home. Toward’s Negan’s home.

_No. Not my home. Not anymore._

_“_ Who is that?” Mason croaked. A corpse was lying face-down on the grass, right next to the stairs leading to Negan’s back porch. Negan smirked, amused by Mason’s terror.

“Who do you think?”

“Vanessa,” Mason breathed. He stopped, and Negan had to push him forward once more. “Vanessa!”

“Fucking keep walking, you prick. Unless you want me to shoot you!”

“Fuck you,” Mason spat.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you curse,” Negan said. “You should do it more often.”

“This is about your girl, isn’t it?” Mason threw back his head and laughed as they approached the fence. He turned, leaning against the wrought iron. “What if the world was normal. What if she killed someone — would you be acting like this?”

Negan grit his teeth, his shoulder beginning to ache, far more intense than before. “I’d do anything…any fucking thing to protect her. You fucking know that—”

“She’s dead, Negan. You didn’t protect her. She did this to herself, and there’s nothing you could have done.”

“Climb the fucking fence. Now.”

Mason did, and Negan followed, keeping the handgun trained on Mason the entire time. He remembered exactly where it was. He’d never forget. The route to the river was stuck in his mind alongside Carly’s screams and all the blood. 

“Walk.”

“You are a piece of work, you know?” Mason laughed again, looking over his shoulder. “Goddamn. Maybe you’d have been a better leader than me. Maybe I should have retired early, let you take the wheel. Maybe then Carly would have behaved herself.”

“I don’t fucking want to here you say her fucking name again, do you understand?” Negan barked. “You’re a sick shit. Fucking sick!”

“You think I enjoyed killing her?” Mason cried. “It brought me no joy, Negan! None at all!”

“Walk,” Negan bellowed. “I will fucking kill you if you don’t fucking walk, right fucking now!”

Mason said nothing. He continued on, boots crunching against dead leaves. It took them thirty minutes to reach their destination, and he nearly topped over when he saw the vast lake before him. Negan could still see the blood on the dirt, Carly’s blood, and as he approached the very spot where she’d been killed, he saw five white, shapely objects.

“You knocked her fucking teeth out,” Negan said nonchalantly. He shoved Mason forward onto the ground, cocking his handgun. “You see that? You fucking see that!”

Mason ducked his head. He seemed choked up, unable to speak as he looked at the five teeth scattered across the ground. He stared, breathing heavily, before speaking. 

“Kill me.”

“I fucking plan on it,” Negan growled. “But I want you to look. Look at what you fucking did to her!”

“I see it,” Mason yelled. He let out a sudden sob, lurching forward. “I see it. Kill me!”

“Fuck,” Negan holstered his gun. “ _Fucking fuck_!”

Mason’s breathing was ragged. Negan threw his head back, bellowing as he laughed aloud. 

“Can’t do it?”

Negan’s laughs increased. He doubled over, tears streaming down his face as he rested his bat against Mason’s shoulders, the barbs scratching against the other man’s cheek. 

The he slumped onto his rear, sitting across from Mason. The two men locked eyes, silent. The gun lay abandoned between them.

“Why didn’t you kill us?”

Mason raised his eyebrows. He shifted a bit, rocking on his knees before saying, “I told Steven and Elliot to bring back strong people. You and Carly looked strong.”

“You should have killed us, taken our shit. That’s how you operate, right? That’s what you did to those kids.”

“This world isn’t the same.”

“The only justice is _your_ justice, right?” Negan chuckled. “You’re in control. You always have be in control, isn’t that fucking right?”

Mason bit his lip. 

“That’s fucking right,” Negan said. “You get a taste of that shit and you don’t want to give it up. You’d do anything to keep it. _Anything_.”

“If you want to take over, take over. Kill me and get it over with. That’s what you brought me out here for.”

_I did._

_But I didn’t._

“Or did you come out here for Carly?”

Negan lunged. His fist connected with Mason’s jaw, hard. The impact sent the man sprawling onto the dirt. 

“I told you never to fucking speak her name again. You broke that fucking rule—”

Mason spat. He looked up, though not at Negan. He was staring at the lake. Negan followed his gaze and saw the water ripple before, two meters from the shore, a _thing_ arose from beneath the still water.

Carly’s undead body snarled. 

“See that?” Mason breathed. He pointed one shaking finger. 

Negan saw. 

Carly’s body was nude, her skin puffed and bloated, streaked with veins. She bared her teeth, five of which were missing. Deep legions had been dug into her skin, her hair a sopping wet mess atop her head. She moved through the water, stopping a few feet from the shore as her foot caught on something.

“You have a chance to join her.”

Negan turned. Mason was scrambling for the gun, gripping its handle. He squeezed the trigger and the bullet skid off the dirt. Negan swung his bat but Mason was quick, driving his shoulder into Negan bruised ribs. 

Negan grunted. His bat flew from his fingers, and Mason’s punches were furious.

_Was this worth it?_

_You are stronger than him!_

_Fight!_

Mason fired the handgun. Negan deflected it at the last moment, and the buckshot hit very close to his head, the sound causing his ears to ring and Mason’s shouts to become buzzing and muffled. 

“Was Vanessa’s life worth this?” Mason snarled, pressing a hand against Negan’s wounded shoulder. He screamed and Mason howled, “What about Albert? And Dylan? And Irvin and Jake—”

Carly’s foot was freed. She fell forward, into the water, crawling towards the bank.Mason didn’t hear the splash — his hands were around Negan’s neck, pressing against the pulse and _squeezing._

_Fuck. No, no, no._

_He could not die like this!_

His vision became blurry, tears streaking down his face as Mason pressed his full weight atop Negan, holding him down.

_You’re giving up._

_Let me die._

Negan head fell back and he simply allowed Mason to squeeze, slowly pulling the life from his body. 

“This was all for nothing—”

_No it wasn’t._

Mason’s shrill screams reached Negan’s ears and the pressure on his neck disappeared. Carly’s teeth sunk into Mason’s throat as she fell atop him, grimy fingers tugging at his hair. Negan gasped, Mason’s blood cascading onto his face and into his nose and mouth. He sputtered, legs kicking wildly and he pulled himself from underneath Mason.

Mason was screaming. He reached for his gun, but Negan grasped it, pulling it away and watching Carly, hunched over, rip apart Mason’s neck and feast on his flesh. 

Carly.

That wasn’t her. The creature had her body, her hair, her face. Everything. But those eyes, dull and grey, were not the eyes of the woman he so dearly cared about.

Yet, Negan whispered, “Thank you.”

Mason’s fingers twitched and his eyes met Negan’s. He hissed, fingers clutching the dirt, before he allowed himself to sink away into nothingness. 

Negan sat there. Carly — no, the roamer — was occupied and eating. Negan had one bullet. 

He considered using it on himself.

_No. She wouldn’t want that. She nor Lucille. Even if you’re dead inside. Even if you can’t feel shit._

_“_ Just,” Negan smirked to himself. “Keep fucking living. Yeah. I can do that.”

He stood, rolling his shoulders, hissing when his injuries flared up a bit. He took a step, and the roamer looked up. 

_She has Carly’s face._

“I’m sorry,” Negan said. He shrugged as the roamer, blood covering her mouth, stood and abandoned Mason’s body. “I couldn’t do it. I don’t fucking know why that shit had to happen to you, but it did. I’m going to live with it. It fucking _hurts_ ,” Negan whined. He furiously wiped away tears, backing up as the roamer advanced. “I know you can’t hear me. I know you’re fucking gone, but I’m going to try as hard as I can. I’m on your side. I always am.”

He pulled the trigger.

An hour. Negan sat next to her body for an hour. He’d brought his bat down upon Mason’s head, ensuring that he wouldn’t turn. Then he’d crawled over to Carly’s body, his hand resting against her bare chest. 

He couldn’t go back to Neighborhood. Ever. He was done with that place forever. He reached for his bat, testing its weight and smiling at the bloody barbs. 

“I should name you,” he murmured. “Yeah,” he glanced down at Carly’s body. “You’d think it was funny, I bet.”

Negan picked himself up off the ground. He felt silly for talking to a corpse. 

_Too bad. Now, let’s go back to where it all started._

“Lucille,” Negan held out his bat and grinned. “Yeah. Lucille. I fucking like that.”


End file.
